


Kinktober 2019: Juuheizou Edition

by juuheizou



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Asexual Character, Autistic Suzuya, BDSM, Bottom Mutsuki, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Trans Character, Consensual Kink, Dominant Suzuya, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompts used will be in the notes, Submissive Mutsuki, Top Suzuya, but other than that, they're both kinky aces guys, this is more relevant in some pieces here than others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2020-11-26 13:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 56,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juuheizou/pseuds/juuheizou
Summary: Kinktober is a smut writing challenge with a set of prompts for each day. This is where I put all my Kinktober oneshots for the 2019 list. I used the official one this time around, which can be found at kinktober2019 on tumblr.





	1. Tongues Out of Snitches (Deepthroating, Face-Sitting, Masks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> already starting this challenge several says behind. i'm feeling optimistic.

Suzuya never liked Mutsuki’s undercover getup. It looked authentic, so much so that he wondered where his ghoul’s mask came from, given the CCG’s ‘costume shop,’ if it even deserved that title, left so much to be desired that Suzuya was better off making his own dress for the Auction. But that was its only redeeming point. Not that he would go back to the cold, dank chamber Mama kept him in to save his life, but he was raised by ghouls who knew what a tasteful ensemble looked like. That blatantly recycled Eyepatch design made more boring with white, white, and more white was not it.

As long as it hid his identity, Suzuya guessed he had a good outfit to work in, but with the recent obsolescence of Project Mask, it sure would feel good to destroy the ugly thing. Mutsuki had already given him the go-ahead to damage it, if he wanted. But before they could get started, a quick check-in, just to make sure Mutsuki didn’t make a real criminal out of him.

“What’s the safeword?” he asked, as soon as Mutsuki put his overnight bag down on the floor of their hotel room and they said their ‘hellos’ and hugged like they had only gotten to see each other through snapchat for several days. He missed him, when they couldn’t make the time to meet up for a while, but they had all night to hang out. For now, he had been scheming for almost a week and couldn’t wait to show Mutsuki what he put together. 

“Nutcracker.”

“And if you can’t talk?” Suzuya asked next. Mutsuki put his hands at his sides and tapped his own outer thigh with one, quick and nonstop as if tapping out of a fight. “Same limits as last time?” Mutsuki nodded. “Can I make you bleed?” That one took a second of contemplation, to answer. 

“Um… no blood, tonight. Please.” 

“Okie dokie.” A big smile played across his face. “Go get dressed.” He got up on his toes and kissed Mutsuki’s cheek. “I have some surprises for you.”

While Mutsuki took his mask and the rest of his messenger bag into the tiny hotel bathroom, Suzuya put in his contacts. Mutsuki hadn’t said anything about committing so much to the roleplay, but he already owned a pair of kakugan lenses, so why not? He also put on his own mask, a lacy grey and black columbina mask he found laying around in his craft stuff.

He was a ghoul. Leader of some organization. If the scene called for it, he would bullshit what his organization did. Until then, though, he had no idea what it did, just that Mutsuki was an undercover investigator pretending to work for him. Suzuya couldn’t help but hum a happy song to himself as he hopped onto the hotel room bed to wait for Mutsuki, kicking his feet up and down while he thought about all his ideas for their night together.

Within five minutes, the bathroom door clicked open. Mutsuki peeked around the corner, in full Project Mask costume. “Can I come out?” he asked, slightly muffled by the leather mask. Fake leather. Suzuya could tell the difference. 

“Mm… depends,” Suzuya teased. “You wanna do this or not?” Mutsuki had to, slowly but surely, be learning that he didn’t have to defer to him for every little thing, in bed. Not that it wasn’t kind of cute, watching him tentatively shuffle up to him and stop at the foot of the bed, facing him but looking down at his own hands. “Ready?” he asked. Mutsuki nodded. 

“Ready.” Mutsuki brought his gaze to Suzuya. “Um, so, how do you want me first?” Suzuya considered it, for a second.

“Get on your knees.” That mask had him inspired. “I’m your boss, after all. Show some respect.” Mutsuki sank to the floor. Suzuya didn’t know whether to be amused, flattered, or judgmental over the way Mutsuki stared up at his inseam. It wasn’t like he had never seen him pack hard, before. 

“Did I do something wrong… sir?” Mutsuki asked after a second of silence. His kakugan eye went from Suzuya’s pants back to his face. Mutsuki looked cute when he was waiting for him to unzip. Suzuya decided to let him pretend he hadn’t been without commenting.

“Ha! Of course not,” he said. “I’ve got a special assignment for you, is all.” He tossed a leather wallet to the floor. It landed between Mutsuki’s knees, splaying open on impact. “Normally, I’d leave him to a tried-and-true enforcer, but I figure being a Dove should give you an edge.” The CCG card key in the front slot was Mutsuki’s. “Rank One.”

“That’s not-- I didn’t-- Where did you get that?!”

“Does it really matter?” He took it from Mutsuki’s pocket when he kissed him. “I think you have bigger problems than  _ how _ I know you’re a Dove.” Like, oh, he didn’t know, the fact that he knew he was a Dove. 

“...” Mutsuki realized he was in a corner. No chance of escape, and no chance whatsoever at mercy. “What are you going to do to me?” he peeped, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Well, I can’t just let my little Dove fly away.” Suzuya reached under and tipped Mutsuki’s chin back with the toe of his house shoe, so he looked him in the face and couldn’t look away, smiling down at him as he contemplated how to play with him first. “Spies have to be punished. Don’t they, Tooru?” 

Before Mutsuki had the chance to answer, Suzuya let him go and hopped off the bed. He took a knee, in front of him. “I ought to cut your tongue out, for chattering to the CCG...” he said. “Making trouble for me…” One of his hands reached out to cradle Mutsuki’s jaw. “Leaving me a mess to clean up...” His other hand went to his back pocket and took out a seam ripper. 

One by one, he burrowed the ripper under each decorative stitch along Mutsuki’s mouthpiece and sliced a small opening into it, from corner to corner of his actual mouth. Kind of funny, he thought, that whoever made his mask decided to give him a closed eye and a mouth sewn shut, when its purpose was to help him blend in with those he was spying on and telling his handler about. His empty hand then crept up from his jaw and two fingers slid into the opening. He coaxed his index and middle into Mutsuki’s mouth and pressed them into his soft, warm little tongue. “I’ve never tried human tongue, before,” he said. “I bet it’s a little different with each mouthful. One chunk from one spot might be stringy, and another might be kinda like jelly.” 

The entire time he spoke, his fingers pushed closer and closer to Mutsuki’s throat, the seam ripper never left his other hand, and his other hand never left the corner of Mutsuki’s mouth. Just a slip of it, and Mutsuki would have half a Black Dahlia’s smile. Mutsuki whimpered through Suzuya’s fingers, the sound broken by a short, quiet, not-quite-gagging noise, and eyes wet with tears that weren’t yet ready to fall. “Or I could cut up your mouth so every time you open it, it rips back apart.” Suzuya couldn’t help a small laugh as he slowly withdrew his fingers and the seam ripper, both. “Or maybe I should just poke out your eyes! Neither of us would be here if you would have just seen no evil, this whole time you’ve been watching me, after all!”

“Please,” Mutsuki squeaked. “Don’t hurt me. I never wanted to make trouble, for you. Really, I didn’t.”

“They really don’t teach you to lie at the Academy, huh?” Shame. Lying could be a life-saving skill, if he fell into the hands of a ghoul who wanted to hear it. “But I guess it doesn’t matter,” Suzuya sighed. He didn’t want to hear it, even if Mutsuki could lie to him. He just wanted to play with his captured Dove. “It would be so wasteful to fuck up such a cute face, anyway.” For now.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Mm, I wouldn’t thank me, just yet,” Suzuya said with a smile. “I’m still mad at you.” He just didn’t have to mutilate him to teach him not run his mouth. “I’ll leave you in one piece, if you can convince me to.” He put the seam ripper back with the array of toys he had lined up next to himself on the mattress. “How about you start by coming a little closer?” He scooched back enough to make a little space on the edge of the bed. Mutsuki crawled up to him until his hands were in the space and he was two steps of his feet away from getting in his lap, like an excited dog wanting its owner’s attention.

From his supplies, he grabbed a ring gag, wide enough to make Mutsuki drool but small enough to fit through the torn seam as he put it on over his mask. “At least you follow orders. You’ll just have to not get any more from your handler, huh?” 

_ “Ah-ah,” _ said Mutsuki. He didn’t shake his head or nod. Suzuya decided to take that as an agreement. He would just have to disappear, to be one of the few but not unheard of investigators to go undercover and never come back. The CCG did throw him, a meek Rank One, in with Suzuya Juuzou. It wouldn’t come as that much of a surprise. Suzuya snickered at all the terrible shit Mutsuki would agree to, if he was the one offering it.

“Sit back down,” he said when he had seen enough of Mutsuki’s open face. Mutsuki obeyed and Suzuya returned to his spot. “Stay, until I tell you what to do.” Mutsuki held dead still, not even blinking his kakugan eye while Suzuya unzipped his own slacks. The only thing that moved was that eye, staring at his hands until he had Suzuya’s strap-on to follow. Suzuya didn’t know how his character functioned, as a spy. 

He got up from the bed, holding the shaft of his strap-on in one hand, the head just a centimeter from Mutsuki’s propped-open mouth. “So patient, too,” he cooed, tousling Mutsuki’s hair with his free hand. “You should see how big your eye is, waiting for a dick in your mouth.” He used his free hand to pull Mutsuki a little closer, so the tip of the strap-on rested on his tongue. “Well, go ahead. Take it like a cocksleeve worth keeping around.”

Mutsuki slid his mouth about halfway up the shaft before he stopped and pulled back. He got into a slow rhythm, working his way back and forth, always starting to withdraw around that barely-even-halfway point. Suzuya watched him for a few seconds before creeping a hand down into Mutsuki’s hair, cradling the back of his head until he lost interest in the slow, well-acted out but nonetheless unfitting blowjob. 

Next time Mutsuki started to pull his head back, Suzuya’s hold on his head turned iron, denying him permission to move more than a mouthful off the toy. He could feel Mutsuki strain, hear the whimper as he tried to retreat and Suzuya effortlessly pushed him, little by little, into his harness.

He did it slowly, just giving Mutsuki a little less slack each time he struggled, so easy and gradual that to the outside eye, it looked gentle. But Mutsuki’s sharp whimpers and cries of protest grew louder, more desperate for the dildo’s head to stop where it was, with each passing second until they turned into gagging. Gagging and thrashing from the shoulders up. Like he was any match for Suzuya’s grip, let alone able to break out of it. 

Suzuya figured, with almost exactly half the shaft in Mutsuki’s mouth, that he had found his throat. The way he squeezed his eyes shut and tried so, so hard not to gag on it, only to retch so loud that Suzuya half-expected to see bile dribbling down the bottom of his mask as he started to move his hips. He just rocked them a little, at first, only poking that point that made Mutsuki choke but not staying there long enough for him to get used to it.

There were tears in Mutsuki’s eye and the bottom of his mask was streaked with drool, his hands grabbing and pushing feebly at Suzuya’s legs, when Suzuya pulled all the way out of his mouth. A string of drool stretched between the dildo’s head and Mutsuki’s tongue, broken by Mutsuki’s desperate, whimpering gasps for air. Part of Suzuya wanted to see the other three quarters of the mess he was making, underneath his mask. Ultimately, though, he decided to wait. As soon as he caught his breath, Mutsuki repeated a distorted word that sounded a little bit like ‘sorry’ frankensteined out of vowels, a couple times. 

“Aww,” Suzuya cooed. “Why would you be sorry?” A small laugh bubbled up in his chest. “It’s so fun to watch you squirm.” Believe it or not, he was saving himself, being so adorably pathetic. “If it wasn’t, I’d just let you suffocate!” 

Without anything more that vaguely resembled reassurance, Suzuya repositioned his hold on Mutsuki’s skull and pushed back into his throat. The second time, though, Mutsuki squirmed and retched and Suzuya indifferently brought him closer to him. Closer, closer, until Mutsuki kissed his harness, choking and panicking while he held him there. Suzuya didn’t let him pull away, or even flinch, until he grew teary and red in the face.

When he did let go of him, Mutsuki launched himself backwards before falling onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath, drool and tears falling from the exposed orifices in his mask. He almost sounded like it, sucking in air and losing it all too fast, and at the sight of his knit brows and wet eyes looking up at him, Suzuya was pretty sure; he was sobbing. It was soft and shaky, but he was sobbing.

“That was fun,” Suzuya said with a calm smile. “You definitely sound too cute to cut out your vocal chords.” And his teary eyes were too adorable to enucleate him. But he had yet to justify leaving him with his mouth and tongue. “Get on the bed.” Mutsuki complied and Suzuya stripped down to his shirt and a dental dam he had taped loosely in place before following him. He rolled Mutsuki onto his back before straddling his chest with his bare legs, knees poking his arms. “You want the ring out?” he asked.

“Ah-hah! Ah-hah!” Mutsuki nodded vehemently, brow knit and eye narrowed as if smiling or about to cry harder. He made an incomprehensible mess of noises, not sounding much like words, but having the familiar cadence and inflection Suzuya had come to associate with him pleading for something.

“Will you bite, if I take it out?” 

_ “Ng-nh!” _ Mutsuki shook his head. 

“Good.” Suzuya reached around and unfastened the strap around Mutsuki’s head. Ever so gently, he opened Mutsuki’s mouth just a little, ignoring Mutsuki’s squeak of pain as he took the ring out from behind his teeth. “Because I’ll feel it, if you even come close.” 

He set the ring gag aside and slipped two fingers under the mouthpiece of Mutsuki’s mask. “If I feel them, I’ll pull out all your teeth,” he said as he inched it down, leaving only the eyepatch on Mutsuki’s face. “Got it?”

“Mm-hm,” Mutsuki said and nodded. 

“Thought so.” Suzuya walked his knees up until he loomed directly over Mutsuki’s face. “Stick out your tongue before I decide to skip this and go straight to slicing it out of your head,” he said. Mutsuki obeyed and Suzuya sat a small amount of his weight down on him. Not enough to do him any harm, but enough to press his dick into Mutsuki’s tongue.

He didn’t push hard, or rock his hips more than a tiny bit, barely using the length of Mutsuki’s tongue to make a little, contained ember of heat for himself. Mutsuki tried, every few seconds, to move under him and lick, or to take him in his mouth, if only until Suzuya pulled himself back again. Even when he did take a hint of initiative, Mutsuki stayed so gentle and pliant, always waiting for Suzuya to say he was doing good before committing to anything he did with his mouth. 

Suzuya didn’t encourage Mutsuki, or discourage him. For him, that hesitance was perfect. He could drag this game out as long as he wanted, just enjoy the warmth and softness under him without anyone throwing off his pace. But debating whether to comment or not, even though what he decided was ‘not,’ did bring his attention to something.

“You’re so quiet,” he said, coolly. The entire time he had been getting his face ridden, Mutsuki hadn’t made a sound, save for breathing. Mutsuki tried to start an apology, just for Suzuya to sit all the way down on his mouth and nose, cutting off his air and his words until he went silent. “ _ Heh-heh-heh!  _ As fun as it would be to play ‘butcher’ with you, I think I like this way of shutting you up. I could keep you too full of ghoul’s dicks for you to ever get a word in. If I’m busy, I’ll just shove my kagune down your throat until you pass out. Sound better than the permanent solution?”

“Mm-hm,” Mutsuki said with what tiny nod he could manage, pinned to the bed. Suzuya lifted himself back up and Mutsuki panted too hard to say anything before he continued rocking against him. 

He kept going for what felt like another minute or so. After using Mutsuki’s tongue a little longer, something in him decided he had had enough, and he stopped, satisfied and smiling down at Mutsuki as he stayed still on his mouth.

“Good job, Tooru,” he cooed, tousling Mutsuki’s hair with one of his hands. His hairline was sticky with sweat. “You can stop, now.” Before he got up, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out a pair of paramedic scissors. He sat back onto Mutsuki’s clavicle and cut Mutsuki’s mask up the side. He chuckled upon starting to peel it from his face. “Should I just cut you out of everything?” he asked, only half joking. The mask came off almost like a sticker; Mutsuki was so sweaty. Suzuya might have felt slightly bad for him if he hadn’t been the one who wanted to play a scene in two layers of clothes and a hot pleather mask.

“No! No!” Mutsuki exclaimed through a small laugh. “I can take it off myself.” He smiled up at Suzuya. “But, um… do I have time to take a shower, before we get something to eat?” It was getting late. Even if they had decent food, the hotel café was already closed. But he had left any and all food-related plans with Suzuya. “I can see why you’d offer to.”

“You do that.” Suzuya climbed off of him and laid down, next to him, on his forearms and stomach. “I’ll clean up, then we can get noodles! There’s a 24-hour ramen place we could walk to, from here.” So they were in no hurry. 

Another second, and Mutsuki got up to go shower. Suzuya un-taped the dental dam from himself and threw it in the bedside trash with the condom from his strap-on. It sure felt nice to slip into a pair of pyjama pants and a loose t-shirt, having been just as layered up as Mutsuki since he got to the hotel. He decided to leave his mask, uniform coat, and slacks out, as well as their discarded toys. In case Mutsuki wanted to go another round, when they got back. Late dinner came first, though, for if he did want to play some more, Mutsuki would need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote ‘spoonful of sugar’ completely independently, no prompts or anything. but when i found out kinktober was a thing i was like ‘haha medical and begging are one day.’ like i already had a piece that filled two prompts, maybe i should do the challenge. ngl it was kinda just me joking w myself for a while until one day i caught myself like ‘hm… masks… tg is big on masks… i think i can work w that??’ and now here we are.
> 
> knowing this challenge is a thing, i might rewrite ‘spoonful of sugar’ w/ the day 2 prompts in mind, or i’ll move it to this work bc work has been hectic and i'm playing catch-up rn. depends on if i feel like going as berserk on mutsuki as i see myself going if i did that. some more attention to bodily fluids would kinda fit the existing theme if i can bring myself to put in the effort but idk.


	2. For a Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Medicine Go Down (Mild Begging, Medical Play)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not rewrite this bc i did not feel like it. enjoy it here, now.

From blood circling a porcelain drain to gore seeping through newly fallen snow, red splatter lent a sense of danger to what could have once been pure white. Even dye on a costume or stains on an otherwise clean bedsheet. It didn’t matter. Those who knew fear saw it and went ‘what happened here?’

Suzuya learned the red-on-white rule at a Halloween store where two nearly identical costumes shared a rack. The pristine one read only ‘Nurse’ on the front label. The bloody one, ‘Evil Nurse.’ He used his learning when he made a uniform better than both. And when he picked his most bloodstained white sheet for a drop cloth, to keep Mutsuki safe. Safe from dirt and pathogens, anyway. For face to face, victim rather than observer, it wasn’t ‘what happened?’ but ‘oh god, what are you going to do to me?’

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” he said as he fastened the last of four hospital-style cuffs around Mutsuki’s wrist. He left them untethered, for now. As open to whatever cruel game he came up with as their wearer was, seated on the edge of their bed in nothing but those four restraints.

Standing astride one of his uncovered thighs, Suzuya let Mutsuki’s wrist go and laid his own hands on either side of his waist. He leaned in almost close enough to kiss him. Or to bite off his ear.

Mutsuki dropped to his forearms as if anticipating the latter, quick and shallow breaths dissipating before they could touch Suzuya’s face, heart audibly pounding between them. They locked in a short stare and Suzuya’s relaxed, creaseless smile stretched into a playful grin. “Don’t be so nervous,” he purred. “I’ll take  _ very _ good care of you.”

He stepped his knees onto the mattress and crept further up its long axis, giving Mutsuki the choice to either slam heads together or clamber backwards into the middle of the drop cloth. Mutsuki leaned on his hands, knees shyly tucked into himself, when Suzuya stopped. No examination was going to happen like that.

“Get on all fours for me,” said Suzuya. Mutsuki brought his knees closer in and turned over, still facing him. He gave Suzuya the same look he gave during the first run of a new armed combat drill.

“Like this?” he asked. Suzuya gave him a nod and an affirmative hum. The new drill face went away. His limbs relaxed, weight settling in what he then knew was what Suzuya wanted from him.

“Mm-hm.” Suzuya too sat back on his ankles, less agility and more permanence in it than kneeling. “Follow all my procedures like that, and we’ll get along great!” He picked up a stainless steel tray from the bottom corner of the cloth and set it down by his prosthetic knee, perusing it until his hand fell on a pair of artery forceps. One of several on top of all his flat supplies. “Now hold really still.”

“Okay.” Mutsuki went pale and even softer-spoken at the sight of them. He tensed as Suzuya ran them lightly over his abdomen. Up to his neck, down to his pussy, as far to either side as his underarms, Suzuya tested his first pair everywhere, lazily drawing it over every exposed centimeter in cool contemplation of where to put it. Like a good patient, Mutsuki tried to do as he was told and restrain himself from squirming, the effort palpable under the two stainless tips.

Had he more at his disposal, Suzuya would pinch along every contour, like an anatomical map over Mutsuki’s would-then-be-numb torso. But he had what he had, and when just testing the pair in his hand began to feel tedious, he accepted that he would lose interest too soon to follow that impulse through, regardless of whether or not in theory he could. So he went patch by patch of soft skin until Mutsuki couldn’t help but recoil.

For the first, that cracking point was under part of his ribs. He opened them and Mutsuki went absolutely still, following them with tremulous eyes and whimpering when they hid from him behind his own body. A tip poked him and his hands made a tight grip on the drop cloth while Suzuya positioned the other. The rubber teeth bit down and he yelped.

“Ooh, you didn’t like that, did you?” Suzuya asked with a sadistic lift. In a slow not-even-half-circle, looking at him with knit eyebrows and a small frown, Mutsuki shook his head. “No?” Suzuya chuckled and picked up another pair. “How about this?”

The second, Mutsuki suffered with no more than a bitten lip. Suzuya went ahead and tried a third. A thin, agonized whine escaped Mutsuki’s throat when he pinched the delicate band between his hipbones. Would that something more like that had come from the second pair. Unless, maybe, something still could.

The fourth pair sat untouched after the third. Instead of it, Suzuya ignored his tray and reached back under Mutsuki. His hand returned to the second pair and, quickly as he clenched his jaw and silenced himself, Mutsuki threw his head forward and keened when he found a better home for it. Then and only then, Suzuya picked up the fourth pair on his tray. If Mutsuki managed to take them with a straight face, he would remove them too and reuse them until he saw or heard just how much they hurt.

Either Mutsuki didn’t catch onto Suzuya’s method, or he really wanted to suffer quietly. Suzuya squeezed a lot of reuses out of him. And he really had to squeeze practically all but the very first.

“How do you like the clamps?” Suzuya asked when, after more pinch marks than he ever could have hoped for, he ran out of unused forceps. He idly picked them like strings and delighted in the almost musical way he could raise the pitch of what gasps and constricted cries of anguish were too much for Mutsuki to breathe through. “I asked you a question,” he said, choosing an especially cry-inducing pair and giving it a pull, short and sharp. “I’m not a cop. You should answer my questions.” Just as Mutsuki started to quiet, he put a thumb and index finger through the rings and twisted. “They’re for your own good.”

“Haah!” Mutsuki exclaimed and made a stiff, forceful arch. “They’re fine,” he strained as he slowly flattened back out. Suzuya kept twisting and his progress was not ruined, but set back. “I like them fine.” His voice shook when he repeated himself.

“Great!” Not that a different answer changed shit. “In that case, onto the invasive exam!” Suzuya abandoned the forceps and returned to his tray. “Turn around.”

While Mutsuki complied, careful and doing his best to keep the forceps still as he inched into position, Suzuya put on a pair of white nitrile gloves and took a small syringe, its barrel not much bigger than his middle finger, from his lapel pocket. “You might feel something cold at first,” he warned. “But you’ll live.” He emptied the syringe onto his own fingers and came up close enough to reach underhand between Mutsuki’s legs.

He pulled his index towards himself, parting Mutsuki’s pussy and spreading lube from the syringe down the middle. When he stroked across his hole, he turned his hand over, palm to the floor, and dipped a fingertip inside. Mutsuki gasped, inaudible to ears unlike Suzuya’s, and tensed around his third digit as Suzuya drew it back.

“I’m sorry,” immediately followed. Suzuya couldn’t help but chuckle. Even when they did something for fun, no badges, no knives, Mutsuki tried so endearingly hard to be good for him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Suzuya assured him with a smile. He knew what he was going to do, and as long as he could do it, it didn’t make sense to care how Mutsuki showed him what he thought about it. That said, it helped that Mutsuki let his guard down as he got used to Suzuya’s probing touch.

What little resistance he met with one fingertip faded quick, taut muscle opening up for him in arousal. Lube dripped between Suzuya’s fingers and down his hand from the moment he emptied the syringe. It left wet spots on the drop cloth as his digit moved easily back and forth. A deeper examination, and he would be fingering him. The movement was exactly the same until he withdrew at the third digit.

Mutsuki shifted his weight from knee to knee. Suzuya didn’t do anything about the insignificant tilting of his hips, but he noted it. They were small movements with no direction, preceded and followed by another subtle shift. Like he was figuring out, if he was going to do it, how it was done, before he tried, tentative and searching, to rock onto his finger.

“Someone’s impatient,” Suzuya said coolly. “Does that mean you like it?” He giggled at the tiny whimper Mutsuki made back. “Oh-ho, I think it does!”

“Are you…” Mutsuki hesitated to speak, but Suzuya answered what fragment he let slip with a curious hum. Sort of a gentle first warning that he wanted to know what he was about to say. That there was no taking it back now. “Almost done?” came out below so much as a whisper, but Suzuya heard him.

“I’ll finish my exam when I finish it.” He continued like Mutsuki never said anything until, just to see what would happen, he added his middle finger and pushed both into him with a soft squelch. He opened and closed them like a narrow pair of scissors and something between a gasp and a moan from Mutsuki almost made him jump. At that point, he closed them and slowly inserted them to the first digit.

“Juuzou, please!” Mutsuki exclaimed when, curiosity satisfied, he withdrew and went back to giving him the tip of his index. Suzuya stilled completely and Mutsuki squirmed, dislodging a forceps from his abdomen. “Ah-hah!” He cringed in pain as they fell, straining to put together a full sentence with a shred of composure. “Can you… please… do that again?”

“Who’s the medical professional here?” said Suzuya. Mutsuki went quiet at that. Like he just then remembered that he was the patient, at Suzuya’s mercy and in no place to call the shots.

“You are.” Good answer. Suzuya rewarded it by returning his finger to Mutsuki’s hole and teasing along the outermost edge. The wanting almost-moan he drew out of Mutsuki threatened to make him laugh again, or at least grin. Desperation looked adorable on him. But not adorable enough to make Suzuya appreciate unsolicited backtalk.

“So are you gonna keep telling me how to do my job and distracting me, like you want us to be here all night?” he asked. He slid two fingers all the way in. Mutsuki suppressed another moan and rounded his back as he made them into claws, rubbing down towards his navel once, twice, a few times before pulling them back out. Another forceps came unclamped and he winced again, twisting his upper body and almost pulling himself off Suzuya’s fingers. “Was that your way of saying yes?”

“ _ Nh- _ No!” he exclaimed. “No! I’ll be quiet! I’ll hold still and be quiet!” No hesitation. Such was the power of action without attraction. Mutsuki didn’t test patience. He didn’t take chances. Not when the two of them both knew Suzuya really could tease him all night.

Denial took no restraint on his part. To give into his own wants and fuck Mutsuki anyway, he would have to have wants to begin with. Nope, every atom of his attention, of his control, went into tormenting Mutsuki. For Suzuya, there was no other end. He had no strings to pull.

But even though it was ‘just’ an act, he didn’t like to leave his act stagnant. He did get bored. Especially with something like teasing, the agony in it a more complete mystery to him even than pain, he got bored. Maybe he could have teased Mutsuki longer, but what a dull, uncreative use of a tray full of better things to do and a cute patient to do them to.

He took his hand back and threw his gloves in the bedside trash. Leaving Mutsuki without an explanation, he then got up and knelt on the floor, where he pulled a plastic bin from under the bed.

“Turn over,” was the only hint Mutsuki got as to what he took from it and set down in a pile by his tray. Suzuya crossed his arms and under his breath, counted off as many seconds as Mutsuki got to do as he said.

Mutsuki rose to his knees slower than Suzuya thought a human being could move. He looked like he was crawling through a razor wire maze on a floor of broken glass, delicately trying not to move the remaining forceps on his front as he tried, decided against, tried again, and tried again more times than Suzuya could count to twist his torso around. “Too slow.”

Like he was made of paper, Suzuya picked Mutsuki up off the mattress and set him down on his back in a single beat, heedless of how many forceps he knocked off or how pained a cry they tore out of Mutsuki. He took two large d-clips from his new supplies and fastened each of Mutsuki’s wrists to their matching ankles before he had the chance to move either one. With the clips to keep them in place, Mutsuki’s arms laid straight at his sides, holding his feet to his thighs so his knees stood up and open as if in stirrups.

Mutsuki winced against his restraints at the reintroduced blood flow to so many painful spots at once, only one forceps staying clamped through the sudden position switch. The last pair standing looked so lonely on his abdomen. Suzuya removed it and Mutsuki screamed. Small, sharp, and quickly silenced, but he screamed. Unflinching at it, Suzuya grabbed all his forceps and set them aside in a big handful so he could rejoin Mutsuki on the bed.

“I don’t like it when patients tell me what to do, Tooru,” he said in a slow, menacing singsong, looming over him on hands and knees. “You need to leave the nurse stuff to the nurse.” One hand supported his weight while the other crept up Mutsuki’s midline. “And if I need your input?” He pressed his index into Mutsuki’s sternum and stared him in the eyes. “I’ll ask.”

“Of course,” said Mutsuki. “It was wrong of me to question you, I know. You know what you’re doing. And I’m sorry.” He spat out apologies, but Suzuya left it up to him, however much trouble he thought he was in while he pushed up onto his knees and reached, grabbing another surprise from the pile by his tray. "Juuzou, really. I'm sorry."

“ _ Heh-heh. _ ” The venomous grin returned to Suzuya’s face as he turned back to him. “You’re gonna be.” He held their Whitehead gag like a drawn-on smile, the end of a strap in each hand, in front of Mutsuki’s mouth. “Say ‘ah,’” he trilled.

Mutsuki hesitated. He almost said something else, maybe a protest or a plea not to make him wear it. But with a little pushing them in his face, he opened up and accepted the unforgiving steel frames behind his teeth. Suzuya locked it into place and adjusted the ratchets, prying Mutsuki’s mouth open wide. As he reached around and fastened the straps around his head, he couldn’t help but appreciate how the punishment fit the crime. Only so many words could be formed without lips, cheeks, or a jaw. At the same time, it was awfully hard to shut up with none of those things to clench or bite down on.

Gag secure in his mouth, Suzuya switched gears and moved his tray closer to Mutsuki’s shoulder. He went around his raised knees and straddled his hips, pinning down what Mutsuki could still move with some degree of freedom while he put on a new pair of gloves and grabbed the two tallest things on his tray. Cotton balls and rubbing alcohol.

Mutsuki gasped on contact between cold antiseptic and febrile skin as Suzuya cleaned about half his ribcage. Oh, this was going to be fun. By one of their definitions of fun. When Mutsuki was prepped for them, Suzuya traded bag and bottle for a pink-accented box of hypodermic needles, thick enough to feed stitches through, and shoved as many as he needed into his skirt pocket for quick, one-after-the-other access.

_ “Ngggah-- Ngh-- _ ” Mutsuki whimpered as Suzuya then traced fingers along the bottom of his ribcage, fixated on the pinch-marked triangles of skin close to bone on either side. Nothing further from his mind than the glaring reason why so many people didn’t get tattoos there, Suzuya could see why people did.

“Pretty,” he mused. He stared and traced a second longer before bringing a hand to his pocket and taking out a needle. He unsheathed it and tossed the package, holding it by the hub in one hand, where Mutsuki could see the beveled point up close with wide eyes. “Don’t be so scared,” he said with an innocent smile. “This won’t hurt a bit!” His other hand drifted down below Mutsuki’s chest, just past the end of one of his scars, and pinched the topmost slip of muscle. “Ha! Who am I kidding?” He shifted the needle into position and Mutsuki froze. “It’s gonna hurt like hell.”

Mutsuki’s pliant flesh moved like play-dough between thumb and index as he lined up the entry and exit wounds in his head. A long, drawn-out cry filled the background at the needle’s light poke, rising in pitch and volume with every gram of pressure Suzuya put on the hub until he found just the right push and it plunged through tough inner skin. Gossamer tissue broke around the point with a pulpy crackle that coursed up Suzuya's needle hand like electricity from his fingertips until it hit resistance.

The point peeked under but not through the translucent other side, visible as a face behind a gauzy veil for a second before Suzuya could see the glint of stainless steel. He added a little more pressure and Mutsuki screamed when the entire bevel looked uncovered at the ceiling. But the sound died partway down as Suzuya drove it further, exposing more and more needle until he could easily move the shaft through the raised tunnel of skin around it. Mutsuki squirmed with every push and pull as he evened out the ratio of visible needle on either end, a thin whine lingering in his throat when Suzuya was done.

Less than a second after it, Suzuya opened the next packet. He went through the exact same steps with the second needle, side by side with the first, using the winged shape of the bone as a guide for how high or low to pinch. Mutsuki cried a little longer through the second. Longer still, after the third. His eyes teared up at six. Tears fell at seven.

“That's nice,” Suzuya said when he stopped to admire his work. 10 needles along the bottom of one rib in what could be two legs of an asymmetrical inverted triangle. “I can't wait to see you all done. Such a cute plaything-- I mean,  _ patient _ .” He didn’t feel like changing gloves, so he denied Mutsuki any more reassurance than that before once again grabbing his disinfecting supplies. “Hang tight while I prep the other side!”

About two needles under the second rib and Mutsuki’s voice dissolved into an abject mess of choking sobs. He flinched at the sound of an opened packet. The third, or thirteenth if it mattered, needle only touched him and he squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering loud through the open-mouth gag. It went in and he cried out in pain, less human and more like a little mouse caught in a trap.

“Does that hurt?” Suzuya teased, his voice dripping with syrupy fake compassion. He pushed the third hub from side to side and extracted another deflating sob. Tears and drool ran like glistening veins down Mutsuki’s face, a new network falling with each little tilt. “Aww… it does, doesn’t it?”

Mutsuki was full-on crying when he nodded, just barely able to manage a pathetic, semi-coherent ‘uh-huh’ through tears in his throat and metal frames in his mouth. Suzuya chuckled into his vicious low register. “Good,” he bit back. “It would be no fun if it didn’t.” He opened up another needle and kept going.

Mutsuki took seven needles before he cried a little. 12 before he cried a lot. 20 --10 reducing him to a writhing bundle of tears from under each rib-- before Suzuya was done with him.

He hadn’t stopped sobbing when Suzuya took a length of suture from his tray and tethered what he ordained the short end to one of the serratus needles. He gave it a little experimental pull, making sure flesh would be torn through before the thread came loose, then joined the next plastic dot. It drew a neat blue-black wing from needle to needle as he brought it between each one, as little slack as a human could leave from one 18-gauge loop to another. When all 10 were tied, he gave it another pull still. They followed the thread, 10 puppets, more cruel and less sympathetic even than him, between his fingers.

“Ah!” Mutsuki yelped when he tried it one more time, teary but no longer crying. “Ha-hah-ah-hah!” he tried. His tongue reached around his mouth like a slimy red-pink slug as he strung together a few more syllables, incomprehensible but directed at Suzuya, who laughed and turned his attention to the mouth spreader reducing his speech to ‘ngs’ and ‘ahs’ as soon as Mutsuki gave up.

“Okay, I forgive you.” He reached over and started loosening the ratchets, gradually closing the frames until he could take them out. “Now…” he undid the straps and removed it completely before setting it aside. “Anything you wanna tell me?” he asked. “I’m gonna need you in a second, so say it now.”

Whatever he had wanted to say, Mutsuki ultimately decided he would keep it to himself. Suzuya let him that time and picked the suture back up in one hand. In the other, he took a gentle-unless-resisted hold of Mutsuki’s jaw. “Open,” he said with an expectant chirp, coaxing the suture into Mutsuki’s reluctant mouth. “Close.” Until he had the tension just how he wanted it, he pulled the long end through the opposite corner. “And bite down on it… There you go.” He connected the other 10 needles and secured the remaining suture to the other outermost hub.

“See?” he said when he was done. “That wasn’t so bad!” Smiling at him, he reached over and gave Mutsuki an affectionate pat on the head. “I don’t do stickers, but every patient gets a treat to cheer them up!”

So he went back to the bin. He quick-changed into the white tricot costume gloves he had thrown in there for safekeeping and brought everything else up with him back to Mutsuki. “Go ahead,” he said upon climbing to his side. “Pick something.” He propped the bin up with his knees and held it at a tilt so Mutsuki could see his options.

“Far right,” Mutsuki at least sounded like he said, murmuring through his teeth. Just to make sure, Suzuya took out the farthest thing to the right. His strap-on, smooth plastic and modeled after average human measurements, held in place with a solid black harness. Mutsuki winced at the tension it put on the suture, but he nodded. “Please.”

“You got it.” Suzuya chuckled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “The nurse will be back with you shortly.” He got off him and went to put the bin away. His tray too, he moved to the nightstand before reaching behind him and grabbing the strap-on. He took a condom from his other skirt pocket and held the toy upright in his lap while he rolled it on, slipping into the harness after, then finding a place to kneel between Mutsuki’s legs.

“Told you I’d take care of you,” he said with a self-assured grin. He took another syringe from his pocket and shot a column of lube at the ceiling to make sure it still shot. Around Mutsuki’s hole, he applied a generous dose. Then he inserted the tip and finished it off inside him before discarding the spent barrel. “You want your treat now?” He held his strap-on by its shaft in one hand, picking up enough lube to cover the head as he dragged it up and down Mutsuki’s pussy.

“Mm,” Mutsuki peeped, his mouth closed tight on the suture, and nodded his head. Suzuya lined the tip up with his hole and put a hand on Mutsuki’s thigh. Careful as a phlebotomist piercing a vein, he started to manipulate his toy in. “Mm!” He pulled out and reinserted the head in one push. In another, he added a piece of the shaft.

Suzuya gave Mutsuki a few slow not-quite-thrusts. He eased a little more into him with each one until he had enough toy in that it stayed in without his hand helping to guide it. As he built up a gentle but constant pace, he leaned over and planted his no-longer-guiding hand firmly onto the mattress, outside Mutsuki’s shoulders. Mutsuki relaxed into it and entering him gradually quickened into fucking him, dedicated back and forth tilts of his hips bleeding into a more and more seamless movement.

“You like it?” he asked when a soft moan escaped the back of Mutsuki’s throat. Mutsuki couldn’t bring himself to nod again, but he answered with a clear ‘mm-hm,’ stressed on the last syllable like people did to say ‘yes.’ “Good.”

Suzuya thrust a little harder, just enough that he could see the needles move. Mutsuki squeaked and his back made a low arch. His chest popped up from that and the sound went a half-step higher before he pulled himself back into line.

“Aww. Are your new friends being mean to you?” said Suzuya. Putting all his weight on his supporting hand, he moved his free hand up Mutsuki’s side to play with the needles himself. Sometimes from side to side, other times in circles, he manipulated a few lilac-pink hubs at a time. He ran his fingers along the skin stretched directly over the shafts and Mutsuki all but screamed.

Thin capillaries of blood trickled down Mutsuki’s stomach from one or two points. Fingertips of his gloves started to turn damp with runoff too deep a red to be paint marker and Suzuya took his hands off the needles. He slowed his hips back down and lowered himself onto his supporting forearm, holding his face centimeters from Mutsuki’s.

“Does that feel better?” he asked. Mutsuki nodded. “You wanna turn back over?” Mutsuki managed to shake his head, no. "You want me to change anything?" No. "Okie dokie, then." Suzuya kissed him and another contented mewl poured, quiet but sweet, from his throat. His soft, whimpering little moans made Suzuya laugh. Made him laugh, and gave him an idea. “Drop the thread when you want me to stop.” Even a treat could be laced with a little cruelty. Figuring out how to inject it into each turn was what kept the game interesting.

“ _ Mm _ -hm!” Mutsuki cried, eyebrows knit and eyes shut as Suzuya bottomed out, giving the suture a sharp pull. The needles jumped and a few more wounds started to bleed.

“Oops,” said Suzuya, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. He eased back up and gave Mutsuki a break before, at the very end of another thrust, he added force and connected hips again. Not so hard it would have hurt Mutsuki without 20 needles attached to his head, but enough to hurt, just a little bit, with them.

“ _ Ah! _ Juuzou, I can't--!” Mutsuki started to say something before the suture fell, heavy with spit, onto his chest, as if to remind him why he had been keeping his mouth shut. He noticed it first, his sudden switch from talking to complete silence alerting Suzuya to both his freedom to speak and the emanating sense of ‘I fucked up’ that guided eyes to the thing he --depending on how much longer he might have wanted to keep going-- fucked up. “Nevermind,” he breathed, sinking his weight into the mattress with a short, satiated sigh.

Suzuya's free hand moved from Mutsuki's torso to run through his hair, smoothing out the newly disheveled parts with his fingers. He didn't do a thorough job, just keeping that idle hand busy while he smiled down at Mutsuki and appreciated the blushing, streaked mess he’d made of his face. Mutsuki hummed in delight and relaxed into his touch.

"Good boy," Suzuya cooed, tucking a long piece of hair behind Mutsuki’s ear. He didn’t linger over him, though, for even a full minute.

As the only sound between them became Mutsuki’s light panting, Suzuya pulled out and retreated to his knees. “Don’t be shy if you need something," he said. He took back his hand and gave Mutsuki a not-goodbye-per-se kiss on the cheek. “I’ll save your least favorite for last!” So he had long enough to recover a little, but not so long he would be consumed by dread when they couldn’t put it off anymore.

“Thank you,” Mutsuki said with a small, half-lidded smile. “For that. And for everything.” He let his head roll a little bit to the side and Suzuya stole one more kiss, making him laugh a muted laugh that died down within a second.

Suzuya’s hands went to Mutsuki’s restraints and he unfastened each one, removing the d-clips and setting the two parts down in a mixed pile. His strap-on too, he took off and stripped before dropping it into the start of a heap. It took a few seconds to put everything in arm’s reach away. Mutsuki wasn’t alone for long.

“Lie still,” Suzuya said when he returned to his side, tray in hand. He put on a new pair of exam gloves and opened a candy red sharps container hidden behind multicolored 100-packs of needles. “You wanna take them out on three?” he asked, staring down at Mutsuki. And at the 20 sharps sticking out of his torso.

“Yes, please.” Mutsuki met his gaze a nervous frown. Suzuya picked the closest needle to himself to start with. He started to position his hands and Mutsuki closed his eyes and went dead still, save only for his forcibly deep breathing. “Whenever you’re ready,” came out in a tiny voice.

“Okay,” said Suzuya, calm to the point of indifference in contrast as he pinched by either side of the first needle, taking the hub in his other hand. “One… Two…” Mutsuki squeaked when he pulled and, like a hot iron through warm wax, the shaft slipped through the hidden middle wound. “Three!” Done with the actual removal on ‘two,’ Suzuya took ‘three’ to drop it into the sharps container.

The first out had hit a blood vessel somewhere, twin droplets gathering bright red at the entry and exit points. Suzuya got out a piece of gauze and pressed it to the two wounds until they stopped bleeding. With a bigger syringe, the kind he carried around with his costume, filled with warm saline, he washed them off and dabbed away the blood. They would regenerate before it had the chance to seep completely into skin, but he still applied a tiny smear of antibiotic ointment to both.

Given a few seconds, Mutsuki was ready for another extraction and Suzuya moved onto the next needle inward. And the next, and the next. When all 20 were out of Mutsuki and in the sharps container, Suzuya sealed them off and threw them away with the rest of the used disposables in and around the trash.

His tray of forceps and needles went on the nightstand again, to put back in his body-stitching kit whenever he got around to it. The plastic bin got kicked back under the bed and while he was up to do that, Suzuya grabbed a long-sleeved shirt and some sweatpants, tossing them from dresser to bed and laughing when they hit Mutsuki square in the chest and knocked him back a little before falling into his arms. Mutsuki dressed and Suzuya then dug up his own favorite orange-and-grayscale Halloween pyjamas. He would get changed as soon as he finished cleaning up. If he could finish cleaning up.

“Oh, no! Let me do that!” Mutsuki cut in when Suzuya started packing the newly splattered drop cloth into a loose ball. His grip was stable and he didn’t collapse on his way to throw it in that coming weekend’s laundry, so Suzuya didn’t stop him. But he couldn’t keep a subconscious eye on him without giggling.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Mutsuki started putting pillows and blankets back on what was normally a cluttered nest that they loosely called their bed and Suzuya nimbly grabbed a throw he was reaching for. “I’ve got this shit down,” he said, not obstructing his work, but not so out of his path that he wouldn’t notice him.

“I know.” Mutsuki stopped and said with a knit smile. His hands went to the throw, though he knew better than to bother fighting Suzuya for it. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Suzuya’s cheek. “This was a lot of fun,” he said when he pulled away. “My Halloween candy doesn’t really feel like enough anymore.” Suzuya took a second, not reluctant, but giving Mutsuki a quick look up and down, for any physiological sign that maybe he should be reluctant. “Please?”

“If you say so!” Suzuya handed him the throw. At Mutsuki’s behest, he then got changed and removed his prosthetic for the night while Mutsuki left him to go take a desperately needed shower. He promised they were still on for scary movies, so Suzuya crutched into their main room and dropped the slimy gag in the kitchenette sink before vaulting onto the couch and seeing if anything good had been forgetfully left in the game system. Nothing had and he didn’t feel like getting back onto his crutches, so he figured he would let Mutsuki pick the first movie when he finished up his night routine.

After ten or so minutes of water running, Suzuya heard Mutsuki get out of the shower, then out of the bathroom. Cellophane crackled in rhythm with sock-footed steps when Mutsuki joined him, hair damp and a pillowcase in each hand. With a smile and a ‘Happy Halloween,’ he set both in Suzuya’s lap. Their combined weight sank into the couch cushion and his thigh, the former visible to the naked eye from the second Mutsuki let go of it. Sparkling wrappers peeked from the open ends and Suzuya couldn’t hold still for another second.

“Yay!” he exclaimed and tackled Mutsuki into a big hug, arms inescapable around his waist. “Halloween is the best.” He squished his cheek against Mutsuki’s stomach and rubbed up like a cat on the downy material of his shirt. Whether a pet or someone he ended up growing close to, warm bodies were nice. Softer than any pillow he knew, heavier than any blanket. “So is Tooru.”

Laughter vibrated against his face and Mutsuki’s quiet baritone voice played like a murmured lullaby in his ears. But before he could really enjoy that too, it stopped as quickly as it started. He couldn’t help but frown when he picked his head up to see why.

“You’re so sweet,” said Mutsuki. “But it wouldn’t offend me, if you want to get up and sort your candy.” Not worth taking his laugh away, as far as Suzuya cared, but good to know. He did have a lot to sort, thanks to Mutsuki’s unwillingness to keep it in his costume.

Fun as it could be, his craftsmanship and tactile love language could only get Suzuya so down to play on Halloween night. There were costumes to make and monsters to become, orange and purple lights shining between sparkly garlands of festive motifs to admire as he walked up otherwise dimly-lit driveways, and most important, candy to collect. But they had almost finished their route when Mutsuki resolved that his nearly-full pillowcase of real treats meant less to him than going home a few houses early. And Suzuya couldn’t wait to dump everything into a glittering heap on the floor and pick their combined haul apart. He could do that while he stayed up all night watching movies with Mutsuki.

Or maybe it would have to happen after. Mutsuki’s first choice was jam-packed with blood, guts, and everything he was afraid of. Not that he minded or didn’t love the warmth and deep pressure he got out of it, but Suzuya had a sneaking suspicion that Mutsuki liked holding onto him during the scary parts more than he liked to be scared.


	3. An Icy Blade (Sensory Deprivation, Temperature Play, Edgeplay, Knifeplay, Spanking, Mirror Sex, Dacryphilia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me starting this one: ok, i’m like super behind on this challenge. if i wanna catch up, i gotta get real kinky real quick. so we should try to keep these relatively short. 
> 
> me about 2000 words in: hell.
> 
> but its been my day off work so i’ve been putting on the pomodoro timer and cranking prompts out, so i’m catching up. and surely, some of these will end up being drabbles that i can knock out in like 15 minutes. surely.

Mutsuki was just not tapping out. They both knew he didn’t yet stand a chance at sparring with Suzuya and winning unless Suzuya wanted him to learn something from it or had somewhere better to be, but he was certainly showcasing how much longer he could avoid the inevitable, compared to when they first started training together. Suzuya used him to test a new disarming maneuver until he worked out all the bugs in it and sent both Ifraft and Abskol flying across the room. Mutsuki dodged a flat face of one of his knives and turned what was supposed to be armed practice into a hand-to-hand match. He survived hand-to-hand until Suzuya threw him to the mat, at which point he scrambled into a usable position and dragged Suzuya down with him. He hadn’t even gotten close to pinning Suzuya, but he was holding his own, for Suzuya hadn’t pinned him down for more than a second or two, either.

But he put up a weaker fight with each time Suzuya grappled him partway into a submission. After a few rounds, grabbing and twisting and trying to immobilize the other, Suzuya caught him in a simple but inescapable mount. Mutsuki tried using his hips to throw him forward, but Suzuya could feel him shift under him, searching for a solid foundation to launch him from, and sat what he knew was more of his weight on him than Mutsuki could lift. Mutsuki picked up his hands and tried to do something with them. Suzuya didn’t get the chance to find out exactly what that ‘something’ was before he intercepted one wrist with each of his own hands and pinned them helplessly to the mat.

“10,” Suzuya started counting out loud while Mutsuki struggled futilely to get up. “Nine, eight, seven.” Mutsuki started squirming from side to side, maybe trying to push Suzuya’s knees apart and undermine his control over where he put how much of his body weight. But from the second he caught on, Suzuya pulled his adductors in and his legs stayed put. “Six, five.” While Suzuya put his attention into his legs, Mutsuki managed to bring his own shoulders closer together, little by little. “Four, three,  _ two-!” _

Mutsuki picked his head up and kissed Suzuya on the mouth. Definitely a last resort. Suzuya went still, just staring at Mutsuki with wide eyes as Mutsuki pulled away. He was too surprised and confused to even call it a good move or bad. Part of him was stuck asking himself if Mutsuki really just did that.

In that split second of paralyzing confusion, Mutsuki threaded his hands under Suzuya’s arm and pushed it, bent, between them. His heel pressed against Suzuya’s flesh ankle, trapping it in place. With an exerting grunt, he raised his hips and rolled them both over.  


_ “Hah!”  _ he exclaimed, short and breathless as he pinned Suzuya to the mat. “Did I--?” His speech came in soft gasps, not ready to die, but working hard. “Did I do that escape right, Juu _ zo--! _ ”  


Suzuya wrapped his legs around Mutsuki’s waist. He pulled him down while he sat himself up and kissed him back. If he wanted to win like that, then he could learn a thing or two from losing like that.

“Should have passed the guard first, asked questions later,” he taunted against his lips before closing the gap again, with a smile. Mutsuki made a tiny hum into it, softening ever so slightly at Suzuya’s touch. Just enough for Suzuya to free his arms and catch him in a cross choke.

_ “Ngh--!”  _ Startled, Mutsuki got his head in the game in time to wrench one of his arms from the hold. But Suzuya grabbed the other arm with his legs and scooched his hips around enough to grab the ass of Mutsuki’s shorts.  _ “Gah!”  _ He might have knocked the air out of him, a little, when he twisted him to the floor.  


Before Mutsuki had the chance to try getting off his stomach, Suzuya released his arm and crawled up onto his back. Mutsuki squirmed under him as he took hold of his arms and pinned his hands down, back to back as if making an arrest, struggling to get him off. But Suzuya easily took Mutsuki’s hands in one of his and held him down while he reached into his pants pocket.

Handcuffs. CCG standard, quinque steel, and always concealed on him. He unfolded the overlapping halves and opened the lever lock with a light metallic  _ click! _ Mutsuki got his hands free, but Suzuya clapped them together with practiced speed before he even tried to move them apart.

“Not the feistiest thing I’ve gotten these on,” he said as he tightened and locked the cuffs. “But points for effort.”

“Wait! What are you--?!”

“Practicing my arrest procedure,” he explained with a calm smile. “You wanted to play by street rules. On the off chance you get a ghoul in a fair submission without them tryna kagune their way out, you’re looking at an arrest.” Suzuya chuckled and let go of Mutsuki’s restrained hands. “Why? You didn’t have something else in mind, did you?”  


“Well…” Suzuya probably wouldn’t have been able to hear Mutsuki answer, were he not hypersensitive to sound. “I have… been a good boy, over the break.” He was a deep magenta-red, when he turned to barely look Suzuya in the face.

It had been a running joke, between them. When the 13th Academy let out for winter holidays, the Headmistress gave Suzuya a key to get in and use the martial arts studio. Because the 13th Academy was not one of the boarding campuses, as those tended to be strategically placed in less volatile parts of the city, the building went black until after the New Year, and no one was there but him and Mutsuki._ It’s really going to be like this for two weeks._ _Maybe you should reward me if I do well, sometime.   
_

“Mm… You have.” Suzuya couldn’t help a smug little smile. “But you always said you were kidding about that.” He teased him in part to twist the blushy, embarrassing knife deeper, but it was a practical move, too. “I don’t have anything to reward you with.” So if he had been more committed to the joke than he let on, now was his chance to own up.

“In my pockets,” Mutsuki squeaked. One hand kept pushing Mutsuki’s shoulders to the mat. The one on his hands crept down to his shorts and slipped into one of the side pockets. Some condoms were the first thing he found and set on the mat. A pair of exam gloves. A travel-sized bottle of lube. “Please?” he asked. Suzuya answered with a dark chuckle.  


“If you say so. But first…” Only keeping a few extras on him to train Mutsuki with, he unclipped one of his knives from his joggers and gave it a twirl in his hand. He got up from Mutsuki’s waist, moving down to one of his thighs, and shredded his shorts as quick and easily as he took a body apart.  


If Mutsuki ever stopped and wondered what he got himself into, provoking Suzuya in the rare instance he worked up the foolhardiness to try, it would be now, as Suzuya palmed his ass through his boyshorts. “You’re getting pretty strong. But I think you need a lesson in when to accept defeat.” In their line of work, sore losers got people killed. Not that Suzuya couldn’t have sold a worse excuse to play-punish him. “Pick your ass up.” Slow and shy but obedient, Mutsuki walked his knees toward himself until they aligned with his hips.  


Suzuya then grabbed Mutsuki’s underwear by the crotch and sliced them off in three cuts. Dark green fuzz and flesh the same berry red as his face, both from his pussy to his thighs. “Now, that can’t be from the exercise,” Suzuya teased. “Are you always so hot when you train with me, Tooru?”  


“Not… al _ ways! _ ” Mutsuki’s voice rose to a loud yelp as Suzuya’s empty hand swat across his ass, leaving a handprint with an unmistakable palm and fingers.  _ “Oww!”  _ His voice broke. Mutsuki always cried easily when they played, but even knowing him, Suzuya wondered if he was already about to. One way to find out.  _ Smack!  
_

“You’re lucky you did so good, up until that shit you pulled a minute ago,” said Suzuya.  _ Smack!  _ “Start counting at 50.” He decided to count the first few as a warmup. Just because Mutsuki was so, so good.  _ Smack!  
_

“49…” Mutsuki said with a slight whine.  _ Smack! _ “48…” Suzuya took his time, positioning his hand right over the reddest handprint, listening to Mutsuki whimper as he rubbed the spot up and down with his palm a few times before raising it and striking hard.  _ SMACK!  _ “ _ Ah-hah! _ 47!” came out as a full-on sob. But still no tears.

Suzuya decided to attack the same cheek each time. When he was finished, one side would be brown, the other blood red. Just like Mutsuki’s pretty, delightfully asymmetrical eyes. Before he fully realized it was on his mind, he grew attached to that idea. He liked asymmetry.

As he got into an unrelenting rhythm with his hand, he watched Mutsuki’s face in the studio mirror. Mutsuki didn’t even seem to acknowledge it, either too used to training alongside it to pay his reflection any mind or too distracted by Suzuya’s vicious assault on his ass to acknowledge much of anything. But it took up the whole wall, two feet from his face at most. Every few slaps, Suzuya took a look, to see how Mutsuki was holding up.

Within the first 20, there were tears down his still-blushing cheeks. His body heaved, racked with pathetic whimpers and sobs that degraded his voice to a broken, lachrymose shriek when he cried out how many he had left. As much as it could, his lower body recoiled from every echoing  _ smack!  
_

By the last 10, Suzuya could see him shaking, both in the mirror and right in front of him. Just for fun, Suzuya tried hitting him with some semblance of the strength it took to swing Jason around like a feather-light toy. Mutsuki broke into a wordless crying fit for a second before pulling himself together enough to keep counting. He almost lost his knees when the next impact came, clambering like a newborn fawn to stay up. Suzuya laughed and kept going.

“Three!” Bounced off the glass wall in front of Mutsuki’s face.  _ Smack!  _ “Two!” Suzuya slowed down again. He had done enough damage that Mutsuki’s ass would stay a patchwork of dark purples and reds for a while, even with him regenerating as Suzuya laughed and he cried.  


There was nowhere left to hit that didn’t already have handprints overlapping handprints. Mutsuki breathed fast and heavy, audibly holding onto what little composure he had despite Suzuya carefully feeling and looking for the angriest cluster of marks before lifting his hand and dealing him another one of his harder slaps.  _ SMACK!  _ “Oww! Oww!” Mutsuki whimpered like a puppy in a trash compactor, fighting to make his tortured noises form something vaguely resembling “ _ ONE! _ ”  _ Smack!  _ “Z-e-ero…” he sniffled as he said. “It hurts so much,” fell from his mouth before he broke down completely, bawling his eyes out into the foam flooring.  


“And you took it like such a good boy,” said Suzuya. He ran his fingers over what were no longer handprints and marks, but a solid backdrop of reddened skin, splattered with the deep violet-red of ruptured capillaries bleeding just underneath. “Still sticking your cute little ass out for me, even when you know I’m just gonna hurt it more.” Mutsuki breathed deeper and started to calm down after a few seconds, only for Suzuya to make him whimper on contact between cold fingertips and his searing ass. Whimpering built up to tears as Suzuya’s nails drove into his inflamed skin for a quick, painful squeeze. After the crescent-shaped indents healed, though, Suzuya wanted to see Mutsuki’s face, up close.

He flipped Mutsuki onto his back, then straddled his waist. Mutsuki was a wreck. Streaked with tears from his eyes to his jawline, lashes stuck together, one eye bloodshot and both gleaming wet. Suzuya leaned over and kissed his red, tear-stained cheek. Then right under one of his puffy eyes.

“You’re so warm,” he said. “No wonder you can wear shorts in here.” There was a cold front or some shit coming through, and they hadn’t figured out how to turn the heat on in the building. Mutsuki shivered when he first got changed, but after a set or two, he was fine while Suzuya, though hyposensitive to the sensation of temperature, started to get frostnipped without long sleeves, full pants, and socks. “I wonder why that is. Let’s take a look!”

Suzuya sat up and brought his knife under Mutsuki’s shirt, eviscerating it down the front in one quick slice. Before Mutsuki had a chance to shiver, he then cut down every seam with the same executioner’s dexterity as he had his shorts. One second, Mutsuki had a t-shirt on. Two seconds, and Suzuya pushed it off him in pieces.  


“Mm. So soft, too,” Suzuya giggled and said, closing in to cluster-kiss Mutsuki’s ribcage, his hipbones, his stomach. At least to a walking cadaver like Suzuya, he felt as though he had a fever capable of causing brain damage. Like a helpless human heating pad that Suzuya would have been more than content to just hold close and cuddle for hours. Not like Mutsuki could stop him, handcuffed and pinned to the floor. “But you don’t think I’m working you too hard, do you? You shouldn’t come out of a session this red.”  


Mutsuki said nothing. Just turned a darker shade of berry from his chest to his face. Suzuya didn’t push him to say something for himself. But shy and cringing, Mutsuki tried to close his legs. That wasn’t so acceptable.

Suzuya fell into a deeper straddle. His prosthetic leg stayed up close to Mutsuki’s outer thigh. His flesh knee shot to the side until it crashed into Mutsuki’s unpinned leg, pushing it back out until he was almost in a full middle split, and Mutsuki’s legs were as far apart as he could hold them. “Don’t you try and hide from me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mutsuki, his voice small and trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I just--  _ Ah!”  _ While he was talking, Suzuya snapped on a pair of exam gloves and touched a fingertip to Mutsuki’s hole. Touching was as far as he got before Mutsuki yelped and tried fighting Suzuya’s legs to shut his own. “Sorry! Sorry!” he exclaimed upon calming down. “I wasn’t hiding, that time, I swear!” Suzuya just stared at him, silent and unmoved. “Your hands are just so cold!”

“Cold, huh?” said Suzuya, a playful grin stretching across his face. “What about this?” If he could tell by touching it, the temperature of the room had more of an effect on it than Mutsuki’s pocket. He picked up the lube bottle and dripped a generous squeeze on Mutsuki’s burning pussy.  


“ _ Haah!  _ Yes! Yes! It’s freezing!” After considering it for a second, Suzuya believed it. Even if he was the type to lie to him, there was probably very little in the room that wasn’t freezing, relative to an aroused Mutsuki who just finished two hours of forms and drills.

“Good,” Suzuya cooed. “You need something cold. Especially down here.” Mutsuki whimpered and squirmed as he crept his fingers back to his entrance. “Hold still, for me.” On contact, Mutsuki made a thin whine. Suzuya could feel him straining to hold his legs open as he picked up some lube and eased his index finger into him. “There we go.” He bottomed out in one slow push, then started to pull out. “Was that so hard?”  


“Mm-mm,” Mutsuki squeaked. If only Suzuya would have known he was serious about this, before. A cotton ball doused in alcohol and then wiped between his open legs, or a metal butt plug left to chill in the frigid studio for hours before working it into him, would have made a screamer out of shy Mutsuki, for sure. But he hadn’t known, and he only had so many props at his disposal. Not his problem, though. For him, the fun part was getting creative. Mutsuki was the one who reaped the consequences.

Just as Mutsuki calmed down, Suzuya’s index finger starting to match his body heat, Suzuya added his still-icy middle finger. He laughed as Mutsuki writhed and shuddered under him all over again.  


“Is it that bad?” Suzuya taunted, showing no sign of pulling out or stopping. Instead, he shifted so his prosthetic joined his other leg between Mutsuki’s. That freed the hand restraining Mutsuki’s left leg to roam upward, wetting five fingertips with runoff from the two inside him before lightly picking up Mutsuki’s dick and kneading it. Mutsuki yelped and twisted his hips, perhaps trying helplessly to get the cold fingers off him.   


_ “Ah-hah! Ahh...”  _ Mutsuki trembled, his voice quieting down to soft, shaky little moans. Suzuya felt him squeeze his two fingers, once. He squeezed again, his voice going louder and his stomach clenching, like he was close. What he was doing right now was fun and all, but Suzuya couldn’t have Mutsuki exhaust himself, already. Not when he still had things he wanted to do to him. Without warning, he pulled out and took his kneading hand away.  _   
_

While Mutsuki caught his breath, Suzuya took a quick look around, at what he had to work with. He picked up two strips of Mutsuki’s shirt. They came from the front, thin and long. Long enough to go around his head and still have enough on the ends to tie a decent knot, potentially. One way to find out.

“Up you go!” He repositioned Mutsuki onto his knees and sat him down on his own ankles, faster than Mutsuki could help. “Hold still, for a second.” Happy with his sitting position, Suzuya grabbed the black-grey pieces of shirt as he crawled nimbly around Mutsuki, copying him like a shadow once behind him. He then reached up to half-circle the strips over Mutsuki’s eyes. “Can you see okay?” he asked as he brought the two ends to the back of Mutsuki’s head, tight enough not to move on his face, but loose enough not to stretch the fabric thinner.

“No? I can’t see a--”

“Great!” Suzuya tied off the makeshift blindfold and tucked the ends. Mutsuki tensed, the second Suzuya pulled the first twisting-together of strips snug.  


Everything at Suzuya’s disposal became so much more versatile, thanks to a mere scrap of clothing. Not just Mutsuki’s body, but his imagination, it enabled him to play with. He could create any illusion he wanted, when Mutsuki had no eyes. If it seemed like fun, he could scooch a few steps away and go quiet, and it would be just like he left him alone. He could drag his neglected fingernails across Mutsuki’s skin until they drew blood and tell him they were steel. He could scratch him with actual steel and tell him the warm trickle was bile from his spilling guts. He could push his blade down enough to leave little more than a red line down his shoulder, and pretend he cut his arm off. Decisions, decisions.

“Juuzou?” Mutsuki’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Are you still there?” he asked, soft and tremulous. Suzuya couldn’t help but laugh. So adorably nervous, and he hadn’t even done anything with him yet.

“Yep. And I’m not going anywhere.” Why ever, he had decided, would he want to? He had all he needed, right where they were. “I think I know how to cool you down.” He guided Mutsuki onto his back once again and returned to straddling one of his legs. “Maybe you can guess what it is, by touch.”

Suzuya sat back on his ankles. He emptied his pockets and sleeves of the five remaining knives he had brought onto the mat, setting them on the floor by the one he used to cut Mutsuki’s clothes off. At random, he picked one and pressed it just under Mutsuki’s ribcage. Sharp quinque steel sank shallow into his skin like teeth into overripe fruit, blood leaking in small beads as he dragged the blade across. He scratched under Mutsuki’s ribs, over his hipbones, his obliques, his stomach, until he was covered in tiny cuts.

Mutsuki screamed at the inital touch of the knife. But by the second slice, he calmed down to whimpering. Beads of blood ruptured and dripped down his torso every time he arched, rounded, and twisted his spine. Suzuya could keep a stable hand with something fighting for its life under him. Mutsuki’s squirming was nothing.

“Do you know what shape I gave you?” he asked, smiling down at him, once finished. They were already closing up, but cuts lasted several more seconds than lovebites. Just long enough to get a satisfying look at the finished pattern of broken blood vessels. So he wanted something that made a cute substitute. “Hearts!” And they did look so, so cute on Mutsuki’s soft abdomen.  


Proud of his work, Suzuya set his second knife down, away from the other five, and did a quick touch-test to choose the coldest one among them. “Open up your legs,” he said as he got off Mutsuki and crawled around him. Slow and trembling, Mutsuki complied. Meanwhile, Suzuya sat back on his ankles before pulling Mutsuki towards him, lying him partway down on the top of one of his thighs. “Good boy. You look so cute.” The mirror reflected the most adorable image of him. All vulnerable and nervous, but not as nervous as he would be if he saw what was coming.  


Suzuya set the coldest knife, not much warmer than ice, down by his own knee. He grabbed what he needed from Mutsuki’s supplies and, careful not to slice his pant leg in the process, held the knife blade-down against his thigh and put a condom on the handle. Then, he popped open the bottle of lube and gave Mutsuki a touch-up before picking the knife up by the blade and bringing the end of the handle between Mutsuki’s thighs.  


“ _ Haah!  _ What is that?! What is that?!” Mutsuki exclaimed on contact. His legs crossed shut as he squirmed partway out of Suzuya’s lap.  


“Did I say you could close?” said Suzuya. Before Mutsuki could apologize, Suzuya put the knife down, got up, and went over to the rack of practice weapons in the back corner. He wasn’t mad. Oh no. In fact, he had been eyeing the gym’s bou selection since the game started.  


He grabbed a younger child-sized one, and a spare pair of hand wraps from his gym bag. Mutsuki was still working on a chain of sincere apologies when he came back to him, his position corrected and legs spread apart. So very good, he was. All the more reason to make sure he stayed that way. “Hold still.”  


Mutsuki obeyed while Suzuya set everything down and placed his ankles along opposite ends of the wooden bou. Then he used the hand wraps to tie them to it, like an improvised spreader bar. He couldn’t help but smile as he returned to the floor and laid Mutsuki back on his thigh. Something about having Mutsuki so defenseless--true, he was always relatively defenseless to someone like him, but  _ this  _ defenseless, there was a kind of cuteness to it. Akin to that of a kitten rolled over to show its belly. Suzuya loved it.

He picked up the knife again and gave it a little more lube, just in case most of what he had put on it was now on the scraps of Mutsuki’s clothes underneath them. “Move off me again, and I shove the sharp end up your ass,” was the only hint Mutsuki got as to what Suzuya was trying again to drag down the middle of his pussy.  


“O- _ kay! _ ” Mutsuki started to squeak, rising to a startled yelp upon penetration with the bud-shaped end of the handle. But he managed to hold relatively still, each time Suzuya pulled out and pushed a little more into him. “Oh, please! Please take it out! It’s too cold!” though, he cried when Suzuya bottomed out, giving himself the piece that met the blade, to hold onto his knife by. He didn’t thrash as hard as the first time, but he squirmed.

“Nah. I think it’s just right for you,” said Suzuya, starting to draw the handle back out, ever so slowly, to the thickest part of the end segment. “See?” he asked with a smug grin after a few repetitions. Mutsuki’s protesting dissolved to soft, tremulous mewling, the more Suzuya teased him with long, full, but slow strokes, giving him a generous window of opportunity to identify the three different-shaped segments of a standard Scorpion 1/56 handle. “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. Is it?”

“ _ Mn… _ no.” Suzuya had a feeling it wouldn’t be. Mutsuki was the same way about his hands when he ambushed his waist from behind, or his foot when he entwined their legs without warning. Within five seconds of the initial panic, he always asked why he took his touch away. Experimentally thrusting and stirring his quinque inside him, it seemed, fell into the same category.  _ “Ahh!” _ poured, fluid and sweet, from his mouth at something Suzuya did. Suzuya tried replicating the angle of that particular something again and gave his knife another easy push. Mutsuki rounded his back a little and whimpered.  


“There you go,” Suzuya cooed, thrusting the knife more deliberately as he got used to using something he couldn’t hold by the base. He stopped looking down at his own hand and started watching the mirror, over Mutsuki’s shoulder.  


Mutsuki looked so cute, spread out and vulnerable for him, the prettiest purple-red from his face to his chest and all over his pussy and thighs. He could imagine his eyes, seeing his eyebrows knit close together and his mouth fallen open, panting and mewling with every few movements of the knife handle. Watching Mutsuki cling fast to the thinner parts and stretch around the thick ones, lube dripping onto the scrap pile, Suzuya wondered how he would like the back of Ifraft or Abskol, or maybe Jason, as long as a human was tall and as thick around as his wrist. He had rearranged the outsides of plenty of ghouls with the blade. It would be fun to find out what faces Mutsuki would make if he rearranged his insides with the handle.  


His brainstorming was interrupted by an especially loud, deep-seated cluster of moans from Mutsuki. Mutsuki showed more back flexibility than he ever did when they actually stretched before a training session, writhing in his lap before his stomach clenched and he rounded his back, as if to push himself closer to Suzuya. Suzuya chuckled, seeing him start to do what looked like a tiny crunch when he was on his back, against him. He hadn’t pointed it out to him, but Mutsuki had a tell.  


Just like Suzuya knew he would, Mutsuki made it a few more seconds before he curled up, like he was trying with what little core strength he had to lift his hips off the floor, and came hard around his knife with a high-pitched squeak of a moan. He stayed like that for a full few seconds before melting into a corporeal puddle in Suzuya’s lap, panting quietly and murmuring a mixture of ‘thank yous’ and ‘I didn’t mean to finish so fasts’ at the seam between the wall and the ceiling.  


It did feel fast, if Suzuya was being honest, and when was he not honest? He still wanted to play. He had more ideas, still. So many more. But Mutsuki felt like a shivering human-sized balloon full of jello as he hugged him, and he would have to get all that jello home, so he set Mutsuki down on the scrap pile and went to pull the knife out of him.  


Quinque steel absorbed heat as effectively as it lost it. Suzuya never learned that at the Academy, but he did when he took the condom off the handle. It could iron acrylic.  


He ghosted it over Mutsuki’s torso and Mutsuki made a soft gasp. “Juuzou?” he asked through it. “What is that?”

“Scorpion, still,” said Suzuya. “Feels different after warming up in your pussy for a while, doesn’t it?” He pressed the tip gently into the soft flesh of Mutsuki’s stomach. Mutsuki startled like he had just rested his hand on a hot radiator, for a second, but he didn’t complain when Suzuya set it down on him. “You like it?”

“Mm-hm.” Mutsuki nodded. “It’s a lot warmer than I am.” His teeth chattered a little. Suzuya could see him shivering, and feel how much cooler his skin had gotten, just touching him while he found a place for his knife to rest.

“Good!” he said with a smile as he quickly untied the bou from Mutsuki’s ankles and picked him up to remove his handcuffs. “It can keep you nice and toasty while I go and get your gym bag.” He reached down and kissed him before getting up to do just that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it wouldn’t be kinktober: suzumutsu edition without a training session fic. and yes, i condensed days 3 and 4 into one bc they both said ‘training session’ to me and let’s be honest, only mutsuki tooru himself would want to read two only slightly different training-session-gone-kinky fics in a row


	4. The Little Toe (Feet, Sadism/Masochism, Mild Feederism)

Suzuya finished off the last of three two-column ties, one binding Mutsuki’s wrists together and two binding each of Mutsuki’s ankles to their bed frame. His setup, for now, was simple, Mutsuki lying on his back in nothing but his binder and boyshorts. From the waist up, only a length of rope around his wrists and his own lack of core strength restrained him. The ties keeping his legs apart and his feet vulnerable, however, only gave him enough slack to point and flex. 

Mutsuki had nice feet, in their own way. They weren’t as small as Suzuya’s, and they were flatter with longer toes. The tops were more olive in color than the parts of him that saw more sunlight. The soles had a few callused patches that were easily smoothed out and resensitized with a pumice rock and a handful of lotion. His toes weren’t starting to come together from a childhood of squeezing into tiny ‘beautiful’ dress shoes. Nicest of all, though, were the reactions Suzuya got out of them.

He decided to start with a knitting needle, six-millimeter, aluminum. Mutsuki made the cutest little yelp, when he picked it up off the neat array of different sizes he had laid on the mattress and poked just above his heel with it. From the ankle down, he writhed and squirmed as Suzuya trailed the needle, pressing hard into the thick skin, up and down the arch of Mutsuki’s foot.

After a minute or so with that needle, Suzuya set it aside and replaced it with the next size down. Five millimeters. Them, he decided to use more invasively, poking at the cuticles of all ten neatly-trimmed nails on Mutsuki’s toes. It didn’t have the startle factor of poking the sole of his foot, but it made Mutsuki squirm, probing along each quick, next.

Squirming turned to struggling when the three-millimeter bamboo needles came out. Maybe it was how pointy they were with such a thin shaft, a lot easier to use as instruments of legitimate pain. Suzuya had no idea. All he knew, tracing them over each vein along the sides and each line of the soles, playing with how hard he pressed into the skin until he got a high-pitched _ ‘ow!’ _ out of Mutsuki, was how fun they were to use, and how fun it would be to put them away and bring out something worse.

Mutsuki was just such a good victim. Suzuya wanted to play a long, agonizing game with him. He wanted to turn his struggling into thrashing, his squeezed-shut eyes and bitten lip into bawling his eyes out. He wanted to see blood flow thick and deep red, hear his quiet baritone whimpering dissolve into tremulous sobbing, feel his skin break. Once he hurt him a little, he wanted to hurt him more.

While Mutsuki started to compose himself, Suzuya sank down to his knees and pulled their toy collection out from under the bed. In hope that it would be a surprise, he had buried what he was looking for down at the bottom of the bin everything lived in, so there wasn’t even a margin of a chance Mutsuki would find them. By the looks of it, his effort was successful. He had to search under everything to get to them, and Mutsuki went pale when Suzuya got up and he saw them in his hand.

“When I was a Rank Three, I finished off this ghoul in Nerima,” said Suzuya, admiring his own pair of cable cutters as he held them up for Mutsuki to get a good look. “After we cleared his hideout, we found a pair of pliers just like these.” Not the same ones. His were smaller to fit his little hands, gently used but boiled when he got home from the field office, far from rusty and gross like the gigantic ones that were probably still in Nerima’s evidence lockup. “And a bucket.” He would see how this went, before he found himself one of those. “You know what was in the bucket?” Suzuya grinned and held his own hands up, palms to his own face as he wiggled his free set of fingers.

Suzuya could hear Mutsuki strain to breathe deep and feel him try so hard to hold relatively still as he positioned the sharp blades on either side of his littlest toe. “I won’t make you fill a bucket,” he said with a sweet smile. “Not this time, at least!”

_ Crunch. _He squeezed the handles together and cut partway into the bone. Mutsuki threw his head back and screamed so loud; the neighboring apartments probably heard him. The screaming grew thick with tears as Suzuya adjusted the pliers and gripped the remaining bone to where the blades went nowhere but deeper into it as he started to twist it apart with a nauseating cacophony of snapping noises.

“NUTCRACKER! NUTCRACKER! _ STOP!” _ Mutsuki pulled himself together enough to cry through his screaming, raw and broken, right as Suzuya broke the last strip of bone and his severed toe fell to the drop cloth on the floor.

For a split second, Suzuya just went still, assessing the situation he had gotten them in before jumping into action. He dropped his pliers, not startled, but in a level-headed hurry to unclip one of his knives from his waistband and quickly cut off Mutsuki’s restraints.

Mutsuki said something to him, but he could only process one step at a time. He didn’t catch more than the fact that he was saying something, as he reached just barely under the top right corner of the bed and grabbed their safety kit, setting it, open, on the mattress. Surgical scissors, forceps, sharps container, washcloth, a roll of gauze, and a syringe of saline, he took out of their compartments and laid by where Mutsuki put his feet, when he sat up and hugged his knees into his chest.

He hopped into bed and knelt across from Mutsuki. “Can I have your bad foot?” he asked. Tears still falling down his face, Mutsuki sniffed and nodded, inching it closer until Suzuya picked it up and set it in his lap. “This might sting, a little,” he said as he picked up the syringe.

“That’s okay,” Mutsuki peeped. He squeezed his eyes shut and cried through a bitten lip, the entire time Suzuya rinsed his bleeding fifth metatarsal and patted it dry with a piece of gauze. _ “Ow! Ow! Ow!” _ Suzuya could hear him fight not to, but still exclaim when he pressed the gauze to the wound and held it there until the bleeding slowed down to a trickle.

It wasn’t a clean cut. Lots of hacking and twisting. “It’ll regenerate better if I clean it up,” he told Mutsuki. Mutsuki squeaked out a reluctant agreement. “Want something to bite down on?” Mutsuki nodded and Suzuya handed him the washcloth. He closed his eyes at the sound of him opening up the packaging around his tools. He probably wanted a perfect regeneration a lot more than he wanted Suzuya to pick up the forceps and surgical scissors, next. Unfortunately, one couldn’t be insured without the other. “Try and hold still.”

Mutsuki whimpered and cried through the washcloth, wound around the index finger of an otherwise tight fist, the entire time Suzuya snipped away any ragged flesh and picked out every stray splinter of bone. He squirmed as much as anyone would, undergoing a small surgery without anesthetic, but Suzuya kept a stable hand, not missing a cut until he was done. “Good job,” he said with a small smile, at that point, putting his single-use supplies in the sharps container and throwing the gauze in the bedside trash.

Were it anyone else, in the field with no access to a hospital, as he would take anyone else to a hospital, he would then stitch the wound shut, but Mutsuki would regenerate if he just left it open. Otherwise, the new toe would climb the stitches like vines up a lattice until his kakuhou decided there wasn’t a wound there, whatever set that signal off. So he just put everything that could be used again back in the safety kit and locked said kit shut. “You gonna be okay?” he asked Mutsuki, once he was done

“Mm-hm,” said Mutsuki, still teary but not actively crying anymore. “I’m fine. It just hurts.”

“More than you wanted it to?”

“I…” Mutsuki looked down at his hands and his voice went even quieter than normal. He hesitated for a second, before taking a deep breath and saying something. “I never wanted to be hurt like _ that. _”

“Oh.” Mutsuki could have been more blunt about it, but Suzuya got the message. He had gone too far. Done something to Mutsuki that he shouldn’t have. “Why didn’t you quit before?” he asked, confused rather than critical. “I would have stopped.” He trusted Mutsuki to stop him if he needed to, as much as he at least thought Mutsuki trusted him to stop.

“To be honest, I didn’t think you would ever really hurt me that bad.” Understandable. It wouldn’t have been the first time they settled for roleplaying a fantasy that shouldn’t or couldn’t be done for real. And Suzuya could put on a scarily convincing roleplay. “But I guess I was thinking like I would think, instead of how you might.” Not everything that ‘went without saying’ really went without saying, to Suzuya. Like that cutting off a whole appendage was way out of the bounds of even the heaviest sadomasochistic play. “I shouldn’t have assumed you could read my mind.”

“Are _ you _ seriously apologizing to _ me _ after I just snipped your toe off?” Suzuya said through a small laugh. That was just such a Mutsuki thing to do. Though, to be honest, he liked how it felt, to be understood instead of berated or told to go away for not knowing what he was ‘supposed’ to know. “I’m sorry I went too far. Maybe we should change the rules, though. Pain scale’s kinda useless when one of us is insensitive to pain, don’t you think?” He thought he got it when Mutsuki introduced the idea, but clearly his understanding was still pretty compromised.

“Okay. How about, if a single wound takes more than… thirty seconds, to regenerate, it’s too much. Would that work better?” Suzuya could already imagine a fairly solid idea of what that meant. Severed parts were a ‘no.’ As were broken bones and deep cuts. He could probably come up with more, if he really put some thought into his list. “We can tweak it if we need to, but 30 ought to rule out anything _ that _ intense, right away.”

“Okie dokie.” Suzuya leaned over and kissed Mutsuki’s cheek. “You want another distraction, until your toe heals up?” He could see a new phalange starting to take shape, but seeing how just that took a few minutes, it could be a while before he was fully regenerated, and this talk seemed just about over.

“No, no! Really, I think it hurt more at first because of the shock on top of it, but it’s kind of just… pulsating, now. You’ve done plenty for me, I promise.” At least, that was what he insisted until another wave of the sharp pain hit, at which point he tried to keep it together as he asked to take Suzuya up on his offer, and Suzuya carried him to the living room.

“Get comfy,” Suzuya said as he gently set him down on the couch. “I’ll heat up some leftovers!” Something hearty to fuel Mutsuki’s healing process, and that only needed a microwave, so Mutsuki wouldn’t be alone and thinking about how much he was hurting for too long.

They had been working on a pot of stew. Suzuya didn’t hesitate to pour a big bowl out of the tupperware in the fridge, full of rare beef cubes and dumplings, and stick it in the microwave. As soon as it was ready, he grabbed a spoon and took it to the couch, setting it down on the coffee table and sitting across from Mutsuki before he picked it up again. “Okie dokie,” he said as he stirred the bowl and scooped up a spoonful. “Open your mouth.”

Mutsuki just stared at him for a second. Perhaps hand-feeding each other when one of them was hurt or sick was another ‘just him and Mama’ thing. But it always seemed to make a wounded Mama feel better, when he butchered something a friend of hers dropped off himself and gave it to her one fingerful at a time until all that was left was a pile of bones in the corner. He wanted Mutsuki to feel better, now. So it made sense to hold the spoon to his face and wait for him to eat it. Or maybe it only made sense to him.

Another second, though, and Mutsuki took the spoon in his mouth. Suzuya pulled it back and tried not to laugh at the face Mutsuki made, presumably chewing a piece of meat. Good as it was for someone like him, especially when he was regenerating, he never liked it as red in the middle as Suzuya did. But he must have known it was good for him. He swallowed it down and immediately opened his mouth for another bite.

“Feeling better?” he asked after about half the bowl was gone. His toe looked like an adult toe made of embryonic tissue, at that point, pale, translucent, and veiny. He might have to carry him to bed, later. Not that he had a problem with that.

“Much better,” Mutsuki nodded and said. “You know, you don’t have to take care of me to make up for earlier. I know you didn’t know any better, and now you do.” Case closed. “There’s really no need to worry about me.”

“Okay.” Suzuya lifted his spoon again. “Eat some more soup,” he said with a smile. Evidently, it was helping. Probably because regeneration burned a shitton of calories in a super short amount of time. “I’ll do something better, if I have something better to do.” He didn’t forsee himself fucking up so bad, but his mental film reel of how his night was going to go revolved around Mutsuki as it was. Why make even more stressful change and completely tear himself from the track he was on?

“Alright.” Mutsuki smiled back at him. It got quiet between them for a beat. Just as it started to sink in, how quiet it was, though, Mutsuki opened his mouth and ate the spoonful of stew in front of him.

Just another bite or two, he took before starting to slow down. In Suzuya’s frank opinion, he could have eaten more. He might have had the same superhuman healing capacity, but he didn’t have the reserves Mama did to repair himself, and Mama could eat a whole salaryman after a run-in with one of the many enemies a woman made when she was queen bee of one of high ghoul society’s biggest scenes.

That said, Suzuya figured Mutsuki was done. Even though it was no salaryman, he had made him a big serving, relative to what Mutsuki always served himself. So he set the bowl down on the coffee table and, for a moment, just marvelled a little bit at how good a diversion a bowl of stew could be. As soon as he set it down, it felt really still in the room, and it wasn’t until then that he remembered he had promised to give Mutsuki a distraction.

He hadn’t even gotten all the way up to grab a game controller, however, when he felt the tiniest pull at his sleeve.

“Wait, Juuzou!” Mutsuki peeped as he reached for him, only to freeze the second Suzuya turned around. “I… I know you’ve already done a lot,” it took him a little stammering to say. “And you definitely, definitely don’t have to, but… if it’s okay, would you… maybe…” He hesitated again. “Keep feeding me?”

“Sure!” Suzuya hopped back onto the couch and picked up the bowl. From the first gift Mutsuki ever gave him being a box of candies to their beloved hobby of cooking together, food was always a nice thing to share. He wouldn’t mind sharing it like this more often. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> playing on the title of a scary story i used to read (aka terrorize my little bro with) as a kid?? in my kinky fic?? it's more likely than you think. that said, to anyone who knows what that scary story is, i /swear to god/ there is nothing questionable in mutsuki's stew. go read tabula rasa if u like that shit. there are some lines i won't cross outside the horror genre.
> 
> in case day 3/4 didn't make it apparent, my strategy for doing this challenge is to kinda get as many prompts as i can tie semi-cohesively together (u know you're ace when u judge your porn by technique, creativity, and execution of the challenge lmao) into each one, so i hope i did an ok job tying these ones together, since they didn't mix as automatically in my head as the last set did.


	5. Oral Fixation (Corset, Cock Worship, Biting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fINALLY SOMETHING LESS THAN 1000 WORDS

Mutsuki had such soft skin, and face-to-face like they were, Mutsuki lying between his side and his back and Suzuya looming over, holding him in place, his neck was just  _ there _ . Suzuya couldn’t help but nip at it while he fucked him. 

But upon seeing the reddened bitemark he left over his right jugular, he doubted he could really call it nipping. To be fair, at least he hadn’t chewed on him until he bled, like he could easily do to his own lips and fingers. And Mutsuki hadn’t asked him to stop, just whimpered or yelped each time an open-mouthed kiss up the side of his neck turned to taking a patch of skin in his teeth and holding onto it a lot longer than what he could call a ‘nip.’ 

If someone could make a stim toy just like human flesh and blood, Suzuya would never bite a living thing again, unless Mutsuki wanted to be that living thing. For now, though, maybe it was fucked up, but he still had a taste for it, after so many years. He could redirect some of his sensory seeking to a firm piece of silicone, but nothing could replace the pretty purple-red of bruising skin as he sucked and dragged his teeth as long and deep as he could without breaking it, the pliant elasticity in his mouth, the metallic taste of drawing even a tiny pinprick’s worth of blood after repeatedly attacking the exact same spot. 

Mutsuki grabbed onto what he could of Suzuya’s satiny, kind of dominatrix-y black underbust corset, probably leaving a few lines of warped thread on the back, and came, somewhere during Suzuya’s process of leaving a dark bruise under the corner of his jaw. Suzuya pulled away from his neck and set him down flat on the mattress before pulling his strap-on out of him. 

“Mm… Thank you, Juuzou,” Mutsuki sighed, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. “Do you… Do you think I can, maybe, return the favor, a little bit?” he asked with a tiny smile. Suzuya considered it, for a second, before getting up onto his knees. Mutsuki did the same, just a second after him. 

“Go ahead,” he said, hands on his hips. “I’ll tell you when to stop.” Mutsuki nodded in understanding and crawled up a little closer. He then sat back on his ankles and tried to undo the straps of Suzuya’s harness. His fingers kept slipping, either excited or nervous or both, so Suzuya decided to take mercy on him and help. Mutsuki set the harness aside before dropping low to his hands and knees. Suzuya grabbed a dental dam from the nightstand and tore the packaging open. He placed it loosely over his own dick and held it there, giving Mutsuki a small nod of permission to do his thing. 

Mutsuki sucked dick a lot like he went through every other aspect of his life. He was meticulous, starting at the atrophic patch of scar tissue below Suzuya’s with his lips and planting a trail of firm but chaste kisses from one side to the other. Careful, looking up at Suzuya the entire time he worked his way up to the dental dam, using one hand to manipulate it around until he could slowly lick up the underside of Suzuya’s shaft. Sometimes Suzuya wondered what Mutsuki would do if he ever didn’t smile down at him, when he looked up. Part of him always got curious to try it. But Mutsuki looked so fucking cute down there, meeting him with those puppyish ‘I’m a good boy’ eyes, how could Suzuya watch him and not smile? 

So he didn’t try it, and Mutsuki went ahead and took him in his mouth, his second time from base to tip. As soon as he let it go, with a small smack of his lips, it fell back down against Suzuya’s pelvis. Mutsuki crouched down lower and tilted his head to get his mouth on the tip, giving it a short lick with the tip of his tongue before kissing his foreskin too. 

For how dedicated he was to never missing a thing, spelling his appreciation for every little part with his mouth, Mutsuki then hurried to pick the entire thing up again. Also much like he did in any other situation, he liked to please. Suzuya wasn’t sure where he got his definition of pleasing him, but he knew now that that was what he was trying to do, when he held fast to his dick and fervently ran his tongue up and down the shaft. Frankly, Suzuya didn’t give a shit how long Mutsuki’s ‘returning the favor’ lasted, so he let Mutsuki go at his eager, or anxious, pace until it stopped feeling good to him. 

Before that overwhelmed point, however, Mutsuki let him go so abruptly and with such a sharp little yelp; Suzuya wondered, for a mostly-joking second, if his dick had grown teeth and snapped at him. However, when Mutsuki pulled back enough to, in theory, let him see, a length of his hair stayed in the way.

“I’m caught,” said Mutsuki. On the lowermost busk of Suzuya’s corset. A thin ribbon of one of his sidelocks, upon looking closer, was tangled in the steel fastening. Suzuya couldn’t help but giggle as he helped free him. 


	6. Sympathetic Magic (Praise Kink, Body Swap, Aphrodisiacs)

In retrospect, Suzuya probably shouldn’t have bought his materials from a mysterious shop that materialized on a Harajuku street corner, seemingly out of nowhere, the day before Halloween, run by an ancient-looking crone and their pet fox that followed him the entire time he browsed their craft supplies. But he wasn’t thinking about much other than the almost supernatural way the gradated purple fabric he decided to line his hat and coat with sparkled while still being so soft. And the fact that few places had a decent selection of Halloween stuff at the very last minute. Even if it was something shady, he could get out of a lot more than ‘shady’ just fine, so he wasn’t worried. He bought his shit from the creepy store, accepted the spooky apothecary-ish bottle of glittering syrup the mysterious crone threw in, and spent all day rapid-fire sewing his witchy coat together.

When Mutsuki came over, after carving pumpkins with his squad, Suzuya was in his bedroom, trying on his finished masterpiece, striking silly poses in the full-length mirror on his door and making sure his last-minute costume didn’t need any last-second tweaks. He was interrupted by a quiet knock on his door that had to be either Hanbee or Mutsuki, and Hanbee was too sick to go trick-or-treating, this year. 

“Tooru!” he opened the door and exclaimed. Sure enough, Mutsuki stared at him with wide eyes, for a second, before greeting him back. 

“Hi, Juuzou,” he said with a smile before going quiet again. “Oh wow… your costume looks really good.” 

“Thanks!” said Suzuya. “You wanna see yours?” Mutsuki had agreed to trick-or-treating with him, and he had also agreed to letting Suzuya handle his costume. 

“I’d love to!” was all Suzuya needed to hear. He went to his closet and grabbed the hanger almost everything was on. He couldn’t wait to show Mutsuki what he had come up with, for him. Part of the reason, other than his caseload, his own costume was done in such a short window of time was that he put so much time and love into Mutsuki’s. “Wow,” Mutsuki breathed when he handed the hanger over to him. 

Every witch needed their familiar. Mutsuki was going to be Suzuya’s, with a matte black unitard and a full set of feline accessories. Suzuya had knitted his fuzzy cowl, arm warmers, and leg warmers by hand, out of a bulky yarn he picked himself after grabbing and petting every black ball of yarn at his go-to craft store. He used the remainder of that yarn, plus an extra few skeins, to make him a furry tail that would tie to his waist by a black ribbon with velcro sewed twice over to the ends. “You did all this for me?” Mutsuki asked. “It looks amazing.” 

“Yay!” Suzuya exclaimed, clapping his hands and jumping up and down in glee. “Try it on! Try it on!” he said, just as proud of his work as Mutsuki was impressed by it. Mutsuki stripped down on the spot and complied. Suzuya helped him get the cowl and tail on while he donned the warmups, then took a step back to see how it looked on him. Almost exactly what he had imagined, the whole time he spent making it. Except one thing. 

Mutsuki’s kitty ears were still on his sewing table. They had been done, semi-realistic and as fuzzy as the rest of the outfit, until he decided to give them an upgrade, after his adventure at the fox lady’s store. “I thought these would look cuter, if you matched me!” he explained, holding those ears at chest level for Mutsuki to see, with their new lining of ethereal purple minky rather than pink or black.

“You’re a magician,” said Mutsuki, grinning as he examined them. “Would it be weird if you put them on me?” he asked. 

“Okie dokie!” Suzuya did just that, rising up to his toes and delicately tucking the headband they were glued to behind Mutsuki’s real ears.

The instant the band touched the top of Mutsuki’s head, the room seemed to spin, like Suzuya had stepped on the gravitron at an amusement park and was launched sideways in a centrifuge turning too fast for him to even move. 

When the spinning stopped, he was looking in the door mirror again, at his own completed witch costume and his blank, wide-eyed, what-the-fuck-just-happened face. Except his bedroom door was still open, no mirror in front of him to look in. What the fuck just happened? And what was that sudden spinning?“Juuzou?” he heard his own voice peep and watched his own lips say. “Are you seeing this, too?” Even though it was his face and his vocal timbre, it didn’t sound like him. Soft and tremulous, like a high, light version of--

“Tooru?” he asked, but it came out in a brassy low contralto. On impulse, he lifted up his own hand to his face to see bigger hands, neatly trimmed nails, and stitchless brown skin poking out of a fuzzy black arm warmer. “What the hell…?” At that moment, his mind went back to what the fox lady said, as she cut him his purple fabric. _ Halloween is such a beautiful time. All it takes is a simple piece of cloth, and you can be anyone you want for a night. _“Anyone you want…” he echoed under his breath. “Holy shit.” He knew what was going on. “I’m you!” 

“And I’m you!”

“How do I turn us back?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Uhh…” What else had the fox lady said? Suzuya closed his --no, Mutsuki’s-- eyes and tried to play it back in his head. _ Fine choice, my child… be whoever you want to be… _

_ Take this. You have more use for it than I do. _The potion bottle. Suzuya reached into the deep coat pocket of his own witch costume and held it up to his bedroom light. He had figured it was a prop, filled with glycerin and craft glitter or something. But maybe it would do something. 

“The lady I got that fabric from gave this to me,” he explained to Mutsuki. “Maybe it’s to switch us back?” All he knew was it couldn’t be anything Shibuya’s emergency room hadn’t seen, if it wasn’t. 

“You really think so?” asked Mutsuki. Suzuya nodded. “Okay.” His face frowned a little, but Mutsuki trusted him. “Take it,” he said. 

With that, Suzuya popped the cork of the bottle and threw it back like a shot. It tasted sweet with just the slightest hint of tartness. Like blackberries and maple syrup, with the viscous but drinkable consistency of the latter. For just a split second, his entire torso felt warm all over.

When the warm feeling dissipated, however, his face had turned cartoonishly red across from him, and his voice came out as a whimpery murmur, when Mutsuki spoke. “I think I know what the potion does,” he said. “But why is it happening to me instead of you?”

“What’s happening?” Suzuya asked, crossing Mutsuki’s arms and looking his body up and down in an effort to figure it out.

“It’s making me, um… It…” Mutsuki wrung two fistfuls of Suzuya’s coat, stammering for a way to say it, turning even redder the longer he went quiet. “I think it’s an aphrodisiac,” he said, staring at Suzuya’s shoes. “A really powerful one.”

“Huh. Weird.” Why would the fox lady give him an aphrodisiac? Eh, not important. It didn’t switch them back, and that was that. But it was super strange that he drank it and Mutsuki got horny. “We might be stuck like this ‘til Halloween is over.” After all, fox lady went on and on about what a special time _ Halloween _ was, and being anyone _ for a night. _They could hit the curio stores and shrines tomorrow, if that wasn’t the case.

“Okay,” Mutsuki squeaked. “Um, in the meantime… do you think I can, if it’s not too weird, being in your body and all, _ do something _ about the potion? I can’t be like this all night. It’s really bad. Aching, actually.”

“Sure!” said Suzuya. “Knock yourself out. I’m gonna go watch scary movies.” Mutsuki was in no condition to trick-or-treat with him, and he had really wanted to go in his own costume, not to mention his own body. So, he intended to make the best of a bad situation, until he was almost out of his room and felt something poke him through his unitard. “Hey!” he exclaimed. Keep your hands to...” Mutsuki was in his bed, across the room, with his hand in the back of Suzuya’s shorts. “Yourself.”

Without fully thinking it through or taking Mutsuki’s eyes off his, he went over to his sewing corner and took a dressmaking pin out of his pincushion. He laid Mutsuki’s free hand flat on the small table and picked a spot. Then, he lifted the pin and stuck it in, deep enough that it stayed poking upwards when he let go of it.

“Ow!” He didn’t even feel the pressure of the pin. Mutsuki, on the other hand, yelped and held one of Suzuya’s hands to his chest. Suzuya hopped onto the bed with him and took the injured hand to examine it. There was a little bleeding prick mark on the back of it. "Why did you do that?!"

“Whoa. We’re like human poppets,” Suzuya concluded. That was why the aphrodisiac affected Mutsuki and not him. And why Mutsuki poked his detached ass and not Suzuya’s, trying to finger himself. The mischievous gears in Suzuya's head started turning. “Can I try something?” he asked Mutsuki.

“Please do.”

Suzuya got up and stripped Mutsuki’s body naked. He then knelt down on the floor to pull their toy collection and his body-stitching kit from under the bed. Knowing exactly what he wanted to do, he came back up and took a seat across from himself with a cutting edge needle, a length of medical suture, alcohol towelettes, nitrile gloves, and a long vibrator.

“Prep that,” he handed the vibrator to Mutsuki and said. While Mutsuki obeyed, he put on his gloves --they felt so tight on Mutsuki’s hands-- and prepped his needle and thread. He knew he had big eyes, but seeing the face Mutsuki made with them, probably knowing from his tool selection that something major was getting sewn open or shut, was one of the weirdest things he had ever laid eyes on. So that was what fear looked like, on him. “Hold onto it, for a second,” he told Mutsuki when he was done with his part.

Meanwhile, Mutsuki yelped on contact between his pussy and an alcohol towelette. “Did I miss a spot?” Suzuya asked him when he assumed, having to wipe blind and numb with Mutsuki’s less flexible hips and hamstrings keeping him from spreading his legs far enough apart and bending far enough forward to at least see what he was doing, that he had disinfected everything.

“Mm-mm.” Mutsuki shook Suzuya’s head. “You’re good.”

“Okie dokie! I’ll take that,” said Suzuya, holding out his hand until Mutsuki gave him the vibrator. “It’s not that different from fucking you with it like normal, is it?” he asked. He didn’t really get the urge to fuck himself like he did Mutsuki, and even _ that _ wasn’t its own special urge so much as boredom, sensation seeking, shit like that that sex could be as good an outlet for as anything. It felt different and a little bit wrong, just holding the toy towards himself rather than the person across from him.

“How should I know?!” said Mutsuki. “Um, I think you can just put it in,” though, he eventually calmed down and offered up, “if that helps.” Another pause. “I don’t know. Do what you want. I trust you. Just please, put it in!”

“Okay!” Suzuya took that as permission to line the vibrator head up with Mutsuki’s hole and start pushing it inside. It slid in as easily as Suzuya’s index finger did under normal circumstances. Just how strong a potion did the fox lady give him?! Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to drink it all at once. Either way, Mutsuki sighed in relief as the vibrator gently bottomed out.

He might have been in Mutsuki’s body, but Suzuya’s brain was still very much his own. The next thing he did was twist the vibrator’s base to the setting that made a potionless Mutsuki squirm and moan. It hummed to life and Mutsuki threw Suzuya’s head back with a cry narrowly suppressed to a long, high-pitched whine, tiny white hands gripping the bedsheets with all of… Suzuya’s strength. He probably had Suzuya’s endurance too, driving his body. Realizing that gave Suzuya an idea.

Mutsuki whimpered as Suzuya pushed the vibrator a little deeper in, just enough to make it press into his cervix instead of resting against it. “Hold it there,” said Suzuya. With feeble legs and shaky hands, Mutsuki moved onto all fours, facing his body, and complied.

Then, Suzuya tore open the needle and suture. “Let your hands go, and I’ll hold it with a stapler instead. Got it?” Mutsuki bit his lip and nodded his head. As if to explain why he felt the need to make that clear, Suzuya then took one of Mutsuki’s labia in his free thumb and index and stuck the needle through a half-centimeter or so of the surface. Mutsuki screamed and didn’t quiet down until Suzuya had anchored the suture to his chosen starting point and pulled it across to the other side. He hadn’t gone completely silent when Suzuya did the exact same thing, only a half-centimeter further down, to the other fold and made him cry out in pain again.

Suzuya had sometimes tried to imagine what pain would look like, on himself. He assumed it would look just like sensory overload, since that was his equivalent to it, brought on by different things but close enough. But Mutsuki didn’t hit or push him away to make it stop, or start hurting himself to feel better, or go all quiet and monotone like he did in distress.

What he did do was throw Suzuya’s head forward and scream into the blankets on the bed with every tiny ladder stitch down the middle of his pussy. He cried Suzuya’s eyes out, sending sparkly black trails of costume makeup down his bright red face. Somewhere in his fight to hold relatively still where he was supposed to, he threw off Suzuya's witch hat. Honestly, Suzuya was just amazed at how long he managed to keep it on his head, until then. 

“You don’t have to hold it, anymore,” didn’t calm Mutsuki down much, just a little more than halfway done, where enough was stitched together that the vibrator stayed in place without a hand keeping it there. “You know, even when you look like me and sound like me, it doesn’t matter. Only you would be so good, for me,” Suzuya cooed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the sensation of hands on what felt like his head, but he reached over and pet his actual head, like he pet Mutsuki so many times he didn’t even think about it until he felt it for him. “You’re doing so great.”

“Really?” Mutsuki peeped, managing to compose himself a tiny bit, while Suzuya at least wasn’t sewing.

“Mm-hm.” Suzuya took Mutsuki’s hand back and made another stitch, making Mutsuki tense up and whine. Another stitch. “I just wish I could show you all your cute faces, on you.” Another. “How pretty you would be, all bleeding and crying.” Another. And another. “But no matter what you look like, you’re such a good boy. Through and through. It shows.”

Mutsuki came hard, just as the needle pushed through one last time, still shaking and bearing down on Suzuya’s blankets as Suzuya pulled his thread taut and finished ladder-stitching Mutsuki’s labia together. One of the easier ways to sew his pussy shut. “There you go. All done,” said Suzuya. “That’s one." Orgasm, he meant. "But my body’s a lot stronger than yours. I think you can handle more. Maybe I’ll keep you like this until midnight…”

“_Mnh--! _Not that long, please!” Mutsuki cried, shaking Suzuya’s head vehemently. “I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”

“Okay. Then, we’ll see how you feel after a movie or two.” Suzuya got up, went to his dresser, and put on some of his baggier normal clothes. “You can stay in that,” he told Mutsuki, looking at the witch’s coat still draped over him. “Or I can change you into something else.” Something more comfortable. He got the feeling Mutsuki would probably want his prosthetic off, too. “And if you wanna come watch with me, I’ll carry you.” Or he could leave him. That vibrator was fully charged and trapped snugly where it was. And even if it did manage to move a teensy bit out of place somehow, Suzuya could adjust it from his couch without having to press ‘pause,’ until their bodies switched back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u know u would sub to a jellyfish and the stingers would just be a bonus when the only way to show u being remotely dominant is to literally switch your body w/ your playmate’s using magic fabric that turns ppl into human poppets of whoever else is wearing it.
> 
> don’t even ask about the magic science and plot. my line of thinking was, in body swap, it's each person's brain driving the other body, so wouldn't their sensory nerves still be bound to them? but then motor nerves would too so how would that work? but i was into the human poppet concept and didn't want to scrap it when i realized that? so then i decided to throw logical sense out the window and go full american horror story s3??
> 
> but really it’s plotless crack w/ a porn overtone and it doesn’t need to make logical sense, ok? and their bodies are still swapped, so it counts!


	7. Howling for Blood (Blood/Gore, Fisting, Hate-Fucking/Angry Sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hell yeah i got prolific on my day off again and got halfway through the prompt list. fear me.

Mutsuki made a tiny groan in the front of his throat, like a baby zombie, or like an adult quinx who was trying not to sound as agonized as they felt. Pretty much since he got to Suzuya’s place, he had been lying in Suzuya’s lap, the two of them bundled in a throw on the couch while Suzuya kneaded Mutsuki’s lower abdomen. 

“You okay?” Suzuya asked, at that point. For the ten or so minutes they weren’t situated like they were, they had been playing Mariko Kart in an attempt to distract Mutsuki from his cramps, until they got too bad for Mutsuki to concentrate on the game, so Suzuya had reason to wonder if he was getting better or worse, now. 

“Yeah,” Mutsuki murmured. “It’s just not getting any better.” Even though they had been there for almost a straight hour. “I’m sorry for ruining our weekend.” Starting his period the day before. Suzuya didn’t see how that was Mutsuki’s fault or ruining anything. He could cuddle with Mutsuki and rub his belly all day. But Mutsuki had apologized enough in the last 24 hours that he knew what he was apologizing for.

They kept at it for a little longer. Warmth and a massage from Suzuya had yet to fail Mutsuki, whenever his cramps got so bad. But maybe that day was the point ‘yet’ was leading up to. “Hey, Juuzou?” Mutsuki asked, minutes from the ‘one hour’ mark. “Do you think we could, um… play, today?” He had already popped as much ibuprofen as he could for several hours. Suzuya’s kneading wasn’t helping much either. Mutsuki was running out of ideas and just wanted the pain to stop. “I’ve never tried it, but I, uh… I read somewhere that… you know, the contractions… they help. If you don’t mind the blood, of course! I understand if you--” Suzuya cut him off with a small laugh. 

“What kinda drop cloth should I grab?” he said. If it was possible that Mutsuki might bleed a little bit from whatever Suzuya was going to do to him, they used an old bedsheet on its own. If Mutsuki was definitely going to resemble Carrie by the end of a scene, Suzuya put down a plastic drop cloth and  _ then _ the sheet. Not actually sure how much he bled at any given moment, Mutsuki suggested they use a heavy one, just to be safe. 

Suzuya left him with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘be naked when I get back, unless you wanna ruin those clothes, too,’ to go and get the cloth. While he was at it, he also brought their toy collection, safety kit, and a pair of polka-dotted pyjama pants. He laid the cloth over the couch and set everything else down on the coffee table before he too stripped down and hopped onto an end cushion. “Ready?” he asked Mutsuki, straddling his hips and leaning close to his face.

“Ready.” Mutsuki smiled up at him and nodded. He was so not ready. That was how surprises worked. But Suzuya just smiled back and kissed him softly on the mouth. 

“Good,” he cooed upon pulling away. “Me too.” He moved down to Mutsuki’s collarbone, leaving a few gentle kisses, and one harder, with enough teeth to make Mutsuki squeeze the drop cloth and whimper. “These are sore?” he stopped, looked up, and asked, hovering a hand close to Mutsuki’s breasts.

“A little bi- _ it! _ ” Suzuya went straight to biting one. Normally, he left them alone. There were more fun parts of Mutsuki to play with, and Mutsuki never had any objection to something he hid being ignored. But he words like ‘sore’ and ‘sensitive’ translated to ‘bite me.’  _ “Mn…”  _ Another sharp, mark-leaving nip.  _ “Ahh!”  _ Another, off to the side, near his underarm, before he started closing in on a nipple. “Juuzou, please,” Mutsuki squeaked, a kiss away from the sorest spot. “Be gentle.”

“Okie dokie.” Rather than so much as kiss, he stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked. “Gentle enough for you?” Mutsuki bit his lip and nodded. He switched sides and licked the other.

“Mm…” Mutsuki closed his eyes and tipped his head to the side for a second. Two seconds, though, and he went back to watching Suzuya. He was so cute when he was nervous. Suzuya opened his mouth and touched his tongue to the second nipple, only to give it a small flick before putting his teeth in its place and biting. Not hard enough to draw blood, but the hardest he had bitten him so far. “Oww!” Mutsuki’s voice jumped up almost a full octave and broke as if about to cry. 

One more bite, to the same nipple, and one more pathetic squeal of pain, and Suzuya lost interest in his chest. He could feel Mutsuki relax under him, relieved as he nipped down his side, peppered his stomach and ribcage with tiny bruises that disappeared in seconds. His thighs too, got special attention from Suzuya’s mouth and teeth, before he jumped back up to kiss his hipbones. For all his adorable ‘ows’ and ‘ahs,’ Mutsuki sure was flushed, by the time Suzuya grew bored of kissing him altogether.

“You sound so cute, Tooru. I almost don’t wanna block your mouth.” But he wasn’t a monster. “Anyway…” Suzuya sat back on his ankles, so Mutsuki could move around. “Turn over.” Mutsuki complied. “And put your hands up here.” He tapped on the back of the couch. “Mm-hm. And open your mouth.” Meanwhile, Suzuya grabbed the pair of pyjama pants and walked around to Mutsuki’s face. Mutsuki didn’t realize the pants were what they were until Suzuya started to fold them in front of him, in half, so the red-brown stain on the crotch and down one of the inseams was mostly in one bite-sized place.

“What are you… Why do you have those?” he asked, wide-eyed. 

“Something to bite down on,” Suzuya said with a smile. “Don’t worry. I washed them this morning.” That was kind of his problem. He washed them, and the stain was still there. “And I thought I told you to open your mouth.” Mutsuki almost said something. Before he made a sound, though, he decided against it and just did as he was told. Suzuya put the stained fold on his tongue, then let him close. “You’re gonna need it. I’m not too happy with you for fucking them up, yesterday.” With that, he paced back behind him.

Mutsuki had already apologized profusely for the pants. The night before, they were just the first thing he grabbed from Suzuya’s dresser and he absentmindedly forgot to put a pad in, after he got out of the shower and put them on. With no hesitation and a calm smile, Suzuya had told him it was okay. 

As Mutsuki was about to learn, it might have been less than okay. Suzuya just didn’t do hot anger. He didn’t do raised voices and bared teeth. Most of the time, when Suzuya was angry, no one even knew he was angry until the chance arose for sweet revenge. Make a snide remark about his appearance, get your motorcycle crashed through a window. Get bloodstains on his beloved polka dot pyjamas… Mutsuki would be grateful for something solid to lean on. That much was for sure.

Suzuya snapped on a nitrile glove and lubed up his fingers. He set the bottle down on an empty couch cushion, for easy access. 

“Hmm…” He brought his hand up to Mutsuki’s pussy. His index finger slipped inside easily. So easily, Suzuya wondered if he could use two fingers as a lube applicator. “Someone’s excited,” he teased, slowly fucking Mutsuki on his finger. “This whole thing isn’t a ruse to get me to fuck your brains out, is it? Because you feel like you’ve been ready for a while.” He eased his middle finger in with his index. “And you  _ definitely  _ dug a nice little grave for yourself, ruining my favorite pants.” Mutsuki took his ring finger with a tiny moan.

“I would never,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry about your pants. I’m so, so sorry--”

_ SMACK!  _ Suzuya withdrew his blood-tinged hand and slapped Mutsuki across the ass. Mutsuki yelped and recoiled from him on impact. 

“I don’t remember telling you to drop them,” he said, glaring at Mutsuki. Mutsuki started to apologize before cutting himself off and just putting the pants back in his mouth. “Thaaaat’s better.” He gave him one more  _ smack!  _ just to hear him whimper. 

When Suzuya went back to Mutsuki’s pussy, there was a deep red trail dripping down one of his thighs. “Look at  _ that. _ ” He couldn’t help himself. He ran a finger up the drip and hopped onto the couch cushion next to Mutsuki to show him. “Did you push this out?” he asked. Mutsuki nodded, cheeks red and a tiny frown on his face. “Because I hit you?” Mutsuki nodded again and Suzuya started to laugh. “How cute,” he cooed. “No wonder you still train with me.” Even with the Auction over and the Nutcracker case closed. It must have been hard for a masochist to get his fix, with Sasaki Haise as a sparring partner.

Before he put his hand back on Mutsuki, Suzuya contemplatively rubbed his thumb and bloody index together. No less slippery than regular blood. And thick, almost like surgical lube. That gave him an idea. “Hold your ass up, for me.” Mutsuki obeyed. Suzuya left him and perused the bin he’d put on the coffee table, for a bigger toy than he usually started Mutsuki off with.

On one hand, it was one of Mutsuki’s favorites: a long, thick vibrator with a ribbed shaft. On the other hand, he usually used a lot more lube when they played with it. So it was a game of chance, how he would take it, now. More curious to see what would happen than anything, Suzuya put a condom on the toy and turned back to Mutsuki. Mutsuki whimpered as he got back behind him. 

Suzuya took his gloved hand and pushed his three fingers back into Mutsuki, who let out a tiny moan, each time they moved. “Extra hot, this time of month?” Suzuya asked as he added his littlest finger. He stirred and rubbed, gathering as much sanguine slime as he could before pulling out and spreading it around Mutsuki’s pussy. “Or are you just trying to get my attention so I’ll hurt you some more?” It wasn’t a yes-no question, but Mutsuki nodded. “What a good boy.” Suzuya dragged the vibrator over Mutsuki’s hole, giving the shaft a thin coat of stringy blood. “Almost makes it a little sad, when you piss me off.” 

He started easing the vibrator in, little by little until it couldn’t go any deeper. “Heh-heh. You’re really eating this guy up, today,” he then teased, idly moving it back and forth by the dial at the base in long, languid strokes. Every few quiet moans, Mutsuki tensed his legs and his voice went louder, the noise he made sharp and almost like a tiny bark through his teeth. “Sounds like you like it.” Mutsuki hummed in affirmation and nodded his head. He could cum around the ribbing and diameter of the vibrator alone. Suzuya had seen him, made him, do that, lots of times. But he wanted to see him squirm. One more pull out, to the head, and one more push, as deep in as it would go. Then, Suzuya stopped playing with it and twisted the base to turn it on. 

Mutsuki squeezed the back of the couch and made a low hum that rose to a whine as Suzuya turned the vibration up a setting. He bore down and moaned full-out, at the third. Suzuya turned it up one more setting before taking the base in one hand again and fucking him with it. 

Blood dripped down both of Mutsuki’s thighs, the heaviest, most liquid rivulets falling all the way to the drop cloth and forming two damp, red pools at Mutsuki’s knees. Knowing he wanted an orgasm out of this game, Suzuya considered just making short work of it with the vibrator, as Mutsuki started to tense up like he was close. But all that blood… that gave him a better idea. 

The light-colored vibrator was coated in red when Suzuya pulled it out. “Aww, did that feel good?” he teased in response to the little downward whine Mutsuki made when he set it down on the couch. Mutsuki peeped and nodded. “Yeah?” Suzuya laughed, a tiny bit, and reached underhand between Mutsuki’s legs. 

“You’re so cute, Tooru,” he said with a smile. He tucked his thumb against the palm of his gloved hand and lined the resulting shape up with Mutsuki’s pussy. “Now, be a good boy and scream for me.” He pushed his four fingers in. Mutsuki moaned through his improvised bit as Suzuya got to his knuckles. 

About wrist-joint deep, Suzuya touched Mutsuki’s cervix. For a second, he just marveled at how weird and smooth it felt, twisting his hand and feeling around with his fingers. He had done this with Mutsuki before, but so much lube and effort went into it; those times were few and far between. It might not have been the first time, but it was novel enough to stop and appreciate the textures at his fingertips before slowly balling his hand into a fist. 

_ “Mmnh… mmnh…”  _ Mutsuki dug his fingers into the couch, starting to pull two corners of the drop cloth down to where his iron grip on the fabric was the only thing keeping it up. He moaned loud, or what would be loud if he wasn’t still diligently clamping down on the pyjama pants. 

Suzuya eased his fist a little deeper with each slow thrust of his arm. Mutsuki writhed and mewled while he worked him open, waiting until he could move easily before he started to pick up the pace. Gradually, he built up an even rhythm of pulling back and bottoming out, taking the time to twist and rub against Mutsuki’s cervix each time he touched it, but quick enough that Mutsuki never caught a break from stimulation. 

Mutsuki made it less than a minute before he dropped the pyjama pants and let out a short, gasping moan. He squeezed Suzuya’s hand and Suzuya fucked him a little quicker, ever so slightly spiteful in his desire to see him tense up and claw at the couch cushion, to hear every adorable little noise that came out right on the cusp between moaning and crying, until Mutsuki came around his fist.

Still feeling the tiniest bit sinister, Suzuya withdrew right away, making Mutsuki tense up and whimper as his hand dragged over everything on its way out. “Good job, Tooru,” he cooed, petting the small of his back with his now sticky red glove for a second, before taking it off and picking up everything else that needed to be thrown in the kitchenette trash can. He then cleared the couch cushions, quickly throwing things in the container they belonged in but leaving the containers on the coffee table for now, and plopped onto the drop cloth to pull an exhausted, bloody Mutsuki down into his lap, not unlike he had been before Suzuya went to get a drop cloth. 

“Feel better?” he asked. 

“Mm… So much.” Mutsuki wasn’t remotely sure if Suzuya had remedied his cramps or if he just made him forget how much they hurt, but whichever it was, it worked. “Though, be honest with me. Are you really mad about your pyjama pants?” Now that the endorphin high was calming down, he had room to be truly worried that he had ruined something that meant a lot to someone he cared about. Maybe he could find a new pair, somewhere. Or figure out how to somehow make it up to him, for real. “I know you said it was okay, but… I’d understand, if it wasn’t.”

“I liked those pants,” said Suzuya. “But I wouldn’t have gotten revenge for them if I didn’t think it would be fun.” He didn’t even think about working them into a scene until he went to get the drop cloth and saw them poking out of his scrap material bag. It had been a long time since he held a grudge against anyone, for anything. Tokyo’s rate of violent crime would shoot through the exosphere, if he was the vengeful type. 

Plus, it was easier to find a live half-ghoul than it was to find a garment he liked the look and the feel of without making it himself. So whenever he managed to get his hands on such a treasure, he got himself as many identical copies as he could find in his size. He still had a few polka-dotted pyjama pants without bloodstains down the leg. “You’re good.”   


“Okay.” Mutsuki’s sympathetic frown melted into a drowsy smile. “Good.” Suzuya held him close for a minute. He figured he would let Mutsuki recover a little, then start convincing him to take a shower before he fell asleep or anything. They were on a heavy drop cloth, running no risk of ruining furniture, but Mutsuki had drips and smeared streaks of blood all down his thighs, and he was bleeding some on Suzuya as they laid on the couch. Suzuya didn’t mind it now, but he knew he would mind it more when the blood dried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im hoping this one isn’t read as a cop-out, since i was trying to make this one /different/ from my other bloody scenes considering i can look at the prompt list and see lots more blood.


	8. Snow White and Rose Red (Sthenolagnia, Bondage, Lingerie, Waxplay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first scary stories to tell in the dark, now fairy tales. apparently nothing is safe from becoming a juuheizou porn title. have another condensed fic bc what are the two easiest candle colors to find?? 
> 
> also when it's more abt strength than big muscles, it's apparently called cratolagnia, but i'm counting it.

Mutsuki looked so good in red. Suzuya found it a little sad that he could wear any bold color he wanted so well, yet he seldom strayed from the greyscale unless he was persuaded to by him, especially seeing him sit across from him against the headboard of their bed, wearing a mesh-and-lace balconette bra and boyshorts Suzuya had lovingly picked for him, the same rich, dark but saturated color as blood pouring from a deep wound. It played well with the muted, almost unnoticeable berry color his skin turned, from his face to his chest and peeking from his underwear in the lower part of his stomach, and the similarly visceral red of his kakugan eye that followed Suzuya’s every move in anticipation as Suzuya scooched himself to the edge of the bed to light two candles on the nightstand. Perhaps it helped that it was Suzuya’s second favorite, next to black, hence his choosing it to dress him in, but red was definitely Mutsuki’s color. He himself wore nothing but his briefs, plain white and blending right in with his albinistic skin. 

While they waited for the candles to melt a little, Suzuya grabbed four cadmium red ribbons from the nightstand and climbed into bed with Mutsuki. Telling Mutsuki what to do could be just as fun, but today, the position he wanted him in was so simple; he went ahead and took Mutsuki by his waist, lifted him effortlessly off the mattress, and turned him onto his stomach himself. Save for a few short words of praise, for being so easy to lift and manhandle into an ‘X’ in the middle of the bed, Suzuya didn’t say anything to him, even when Mutsuki asked what he wanted him to do. He just pinned each wrist and ankle, one by one, to its own corner of the mattress and used a ribbon to two-column tie it to the bed frame. 

Not that he was any less obedient of verbal commands, but Mutsuki didn’t question it when Suzuya decided to talk with his tiny, strong hands instead. Frankly, he couldn’t if he wanted to. Suzuya lacked the heavy artillery-wielding look of most investigators with quinques in the same size class as his, small and built more like a dancer than a quarterback with his rectangular torso and lightly defined muscles. But like a dancer, he could lift a grown human over his head and hold them there as long as he wanted or manipulate them so effortlessly with so much graceful control that even the most brutal manhandling looked gentle. Maybe he was taller, but Mutsuki was a pliant ragdoll to him. 

By the time Suzuya was done posing him and Mutsuki was bound in place, completely vulnerable and at his mercy, Suzuya’s candles were ready. As he liked to do whenever he wanted to be able to pick between two similar but different things easily, he had color-coded them. One was a red soy stick, softer and cooler-melting than the other, a white paraffin votive that could actually leave burns. He decided to start with the red one, picking it up and holding it up almost to his eye level over Mutsuki’s torso as he slowly tipped it downward. 

Mutsuki yelped on contact between warm wax and his left oblique. Suzuya lowered the candle to his chest level before dripping the candle onto him again, making a few little splashes of red on his thigh, just under his ass. Mutsuki whimpered and squirmed in his bonds as Suzuya tried different places to drip, playing and experimenting until it was about a third of the way melted. At that point, Suzuya decided it was time to play with the white candle. He started at his chest level, with that one. 

_ “Ow!”  _ Mutsuki writhed and full-on screamed at the first splash of white hitting the small of his back. Suzuya giggled and moved the candle just a little bit to the right. Drip.  _ “Ahh-hah-hah!”  _ Drip. _ “Ah!”  _

“Aww, what’s the matter?” Suzuya cooed. He withdrew the candle and tilted it upright, letting the melted wax pool at the top, swirling it like a glass of whiskey but not letting anything spill over the votive’s unmelted edge. “Is the mean candle hurting you?” he asked with a sinister smile. 

_ “Mm-hm,”  _ Mutsuki nodded his head and whimpered. He looked over his shoulder at Suzuya with knit eyebrows and slightly teary eyes. Suzuya let the candle burn a little longer before pouring the entire reservoir of wax up Mutsuki’s spine, finishing it off on one of his scapulae. The one he hadn’t already splattered with red wax.  _ “HAAH!!!”  _

Mutsuki thrashed and twisted in place, trying to take deep breaths that came in like gasping, sobbing moans. Suzuya tried to ignore it and position the candle to drip again, but it wasn’t as easy, hovering something above him, as it was holding needles or a knife steady. 

“Now, now,” he said, snapping his free hand out from under himself and using it to pin Mutsuki by his shoulders to the bed. “I’m not done, yet.” There was still a lot more red on him than white. “So be a good boy and hold still.” 


	9. Sleepover (Cross-Dressing, Tribadism/Scissoring)

Suzuya liked Mutsuki in a skirt. For one, he was the only person Mutsuki would wear one around, because, in Mutsuki’s words, he never made him feel like any less of a man for it, and that felt kind of special. For another, the baby blue circle skirt he had paired with a light yellow sweater and dressed him in looked so nice on him, splayed out around him as he laid him down on their bed and straddled one of his stockinged legs. And, for another, it allowed him easy access to Mutsuki’s pussy.

It had been a sleepover like any other, the two of them going through Suzuya’s clothes and playing a game of ‘dress up’ until Suzuya snapped on a pair of exam gloves and offered to pierce Mutsuki’s ears, just to go with his dress-up outfit and then he could let it heal, Mutsuki got all blushy, and things escalated to where Suzuya wasn’t entirely sure how they got where they were now, barriers and lube thrown onto his bed, his pyjama pants off, him on top of Mutsuki, but he was thankful he had put Mutsuki in a skirt.  


“Told you I had good taste,” he teased, pushing the hem of Mutsuki’s skirt up. “This is a good look on you.” Flushed and squirming under him as he put his weight on one hand and moved the other downward to tease his little dick erect. He pulled away for only a second, to grab the bottle from where it had ended up, hastily tossed next to Mutsuki’s waist, and lube up his hand before picking up the enlarged nub with four fingers and rubbing it with his thumb.  


Mutsuki closed his eyes and moaned, softly. His hands went to grab the sheets on either side of his head, his grip tightening with each second Suzuya played with his dick. When Suzuya stopped and let him go, he made a short, sharp little whine, to which Suzuya giggled and taunted him for being so eager. “I was just getting you hard,” he said. “I’ve got ideas.” For how to play with him, now that it was happening.   


With that, Suzuya grabbed a dental dam and a roll of medical tape from the supply pile on the bed, then got up on just his knees to tape the dam over his own dick. Once that was in place, he moved up Mutsuki’s leg and sat back down to where his dick touched Mutsuki’s. He found the bottle again and poured a little more lube on Mutsuki’s pussy before he pressed his hips down and started rocking.  


Mutsuki held more or less still and that was fine by Suzuya. He rubbed firmly and quickly against Mutsuki, holding onto the knee he wasn’t straddling for more leverage to pass over his dick each time, sometimes with his own, sometimes a little higher up, but close enough. Mutsuki panted and filled the room with quiet little moans, periodically tensing and tightening his grip on the bedsheets.  


“That’s a good boy,” Suzuya cooed, as Mutsuki got squirmier and the buildup of tension was starting to creep toward the ‘too much’ point, for him. “Are you about to cum?” he asked.  


“Mm-hm,” Mutsuki squeaked, trying to look up at Suzuya as he nodded his head.  _ “Oh! Ohh,  _ Juuzou… I’m so close,” he breathed. Suzuya grinned at that and rocked his hips faster until Mutsuki came with a long, tremulous cross between a sigh and a moan.  


_ “ _ Thank you, Juuzou,” he said as he caught his breath, smiling up at him. “Was that enough for you, or…?”  


“Yep.” From a sensory standpoint, a little more than enough. But not so much more that his night was ruined, and he didn’t feel like reassuring a worried Mutsuki of that, so he wasn’t inclined to bring it up. “So, now that that’s all outta your system, can I paint your nails?” After he took his dental dam off and put his pants back on, but he was so excited about the bubblegum pink lacquer he could already see on him; he had to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ack i hope its not too obvious that i originally wanted to go for all four prompts for this one, but then abt a paragraph in i just went Fuck That and wanted to be done so bad so i ended it at what was gonna be the middle of the oneshot.


	10. Puppy Love (Petplay, Costume)

Suzuya couldn’t help but giggle as he finished putting Mutsuki’s collar around his neck. “You look so cute!” he exclaimed upon getting a good look at him, the two of them crouched on the floor by their bed, Suzuya in his normal clothes and Mutsuki in a collar, paw mittens, and dog ears. “You’re gonna be a puppy today, but who knows? Those ears are pretty fun to make.” He went with dog ears because they were easy to find if he couldn’t figure out how to make them, and because they matched Mutsuki’s obedient personality, but maybe he could be a bunch of things. Suzuya could already see how adorable Mutsuki would look in a pair of kitten ears, or with a bunny tail. 

“You made this?” Mutsuki examined his mittens, hand-knit out of wooly yarn with small machine-like stitches holding the paw pads on. Through them, he touched and handled the tip of one of his ears, also made by Suzuya’s hand. Once done marvelling at them, he then felt along the black leather of his collar. “There’s nothing you can’t do, is there?” he said, eyes glued to the golden bell hanging from the middle.

“Not all of it,” said Suzuya. His eyes followed Mutsuki’s hand before stopping at the bell. He made everything else, but not the collar. “That used to be mine!” When he was rescued from Mama’s estate, he didn’t feel rescued so much as ripped from the only family he knew. As much as he hated it when she kept it around his neck, his collar had once been all he had left of Mama, during a time when he wanted something left of her. The only thing harmless enough to let an adolescent him keep. 

“Yours. Like from…” Mutsuki’s face dropped the same way Mr. Shinohara’s did when Suzuya first showed the collar to him. He went quiet for a second, then looked at Suzuya with knit eyebrows and a small frown. “Juuzou, if this is bringing you to a bad place…” They had talked about Mama, a few bits and pieces here and there. Sometimes it even came up because a little too much of her came through in Suzuya’s play style. Mutsuki knew the basics of how life as her pet and executioner worked, and it wasn’t the first time he worried that his wants were hurting Suzuya. He had gotten to where he didn’t just fret about it without a specific reason anymore, making each time he worried enough to ask few and far between, but reassurance after reassurance that Suzuya liked turning the tables never kept the next time from happening. 

“It’s not.” Suzuya smiled at him. The invisible Shinohara on his shoulder asked him the same thing when he found the collar hidden among a pile of forgotten junk in his closet. Maybe it made him a bad victim or some shit that he could even look at it so easily, let alone use it to subjugate a pet of his own. But seeing Mutsuki in it, sitting on his ankles with his hands between his knees, just like a dog waiting for a treat, that oppressive bell tied to his neck, he felt nothing but excitement to see what fun games he could play with his newly collared pup. “I like it better as your collar than mine, though.”

“You really think that?” Suzuya nodded. “Okay.” A tiny smile found its way onto Mutsuki’s face. “Just… don’t forget that you can change your mind too.”

“Okay.” He grinned and pet Mutsuki between his dog ears. He had modeled them after undocked pitbull ears, since that was the last stray he had pet when he made them, but maybe he should have made him an akita or a mastiff, given the way he looked out for him. But no. He looked too adorable as he was. “Can I put your tail in, now?” he asked. Mutsuki nodded. 

He had considered figuring out how to pin or staple it onto him, but then Suzuya learned how the people who were big into petplay made their tails stay on, and it seemed just as fun. “Lie on your tummy,” he told Mutsuki. Meanwhile he got up and went to the array of supplies he had arranged on their bed for an exam glove, a condom, a bottle of lube, and a sleek tail plug. He put the glove on himself and wet the tip of his index finger with lube. “And hold still. This will only feel weird for a second.” 

Mutsuki made a tiny squeaking noise and tensed his entire body when Suzuya started circling his finger along his hole. Given a second to get used to it, though, and he relaxed without being told to. Suzuya could hear him taking deep breaths in time with the slow, teasing circles. “Good. Stay just like that,” he said as he gently sank the pad of his finger into his ass. 

He then pulled out and picked up some of the lube pooling from his finger onto Mutsuki and eased a little deeper in. Gradually adding pressure, he repeated the back and forth movement until he could easily slip his entire digit into him. Looking at the plug, and having been the one who made the tail, he knew he had opened Mutsuki up enough for it. But Mutsuki tensed again when he took his finger away. When Suzuya looked back at him after putting a condom on the plug and lubing it up enough to use, he had his paws in fists and his shoulders were almost at his human ears. 

“Scared of a butt plug, Tooru?” Suzuya teased. “You look like I’m about to give you a penicillin shot.” 

“Is it big?” Mutsuki asked with a slight squeak, almost too soft to hear.

“It’s gonna feel a lot bigger if you don’t calm down.” To actually answer his question, though, Suzuya brought the tip of the plug to Mutsuki’s hole and kneaded it in slow circles, just like he had done with his finger. “Are you gonna take it like a good boy? Or do I have to fight you?” Shy but obedient, Mutsuki had never gotten past the stage of playfully threatening the latter. He wouldn’t like it. 

“I’m sorry,” said Mutsuki. “I’ll… I’ll take it like a good boy.” Suzuya could see and feel him trying. What, he wondered, had Mutsuki so on edge, today? Not that he minded, or had any intention of making it better. This game would be extra fun with Mutsuki on edge. 

“Mm-hm. I know you will,” he cooed, too much like he was talking to an actual baby animal to be completely kind-hearted, as Mutsuki softened and let him work the tip of the plug in. “You’re enjoying it, already.” Did Mutsuki really think, just because his mouth was closed, that Suzuya wouldn’t hear that sweet little whimper, as the plug started to give him a stretch? “And you haven’t even seen the tail part.” It looked so cute, turned up to the ceiling like that of a happy little pup. 

“ _ Mmmm… _ ” Suzuya pulled out one last time before pushing the last section of it in. Mutsuki audibly bit back a quiet moan as it slid easily from its maximum width to its flared base.

“There we go. Nice and snug.” Suzuya pat Mutsuki on his ass. “You like your cozy new tail?” he then crawled closer to Mutsuki’s head and asked.

“Yes, I like it,” Mutsuki murmured. “I love my cozy new-”

“Ah! Pets don’t talk, Tooru.” Mutsuki shut his mouth. “I don’t care what noise you make,” but it had to be a noise, as opposed to a word. “Just don’t make me sew your mouth shut.” He could ladder-stitch his lips together and it wouldn’t even disfigure his adorable face. He had. And he would. “You don’t want me to do that, do you?” 

“Mm-mm,” Mutsuki peeped and shook his head. 

“That’s better,” Suzuya cooed. “Since this is my first night at home with my  _ cute little pup, _ ” he then started to say with a playful grin. “I would think I need to start training him. Don’t you?”

“Um…” Mutsuki just stared at him for a second.  _ “Woof!”  _ he eventually squeaked in reply, quiet and tentative. 

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Suzuya said before standing up and grabbing a small bag from on top of the bed. He opened it and grabbed a handful of its contents before taking a few steps back, away from Mutsuki. “Tooru,  _ ici!”  _ he called. 

_ “Woof?”  _ Suzuya hadn’t told him what his commands meant. He thought it would be fun to let him figure it out. But, to give him a hint, if not a little incentive to obey, Suzuya took mercy on him for now and held out his hand, a small training treat in his palm.

_ “Ici,”  _ he repeated. He had no idea what was going through Mutsuki’s head. For all he knew, he was just trying to see what was in his hand, but Mutsuki crawled over to him. “Good boy.” When he crawled up closed enough, Suzuya offered up the treat.  


“Is that a dog tre--”

“Ah-ah-ah! What did I say about talking, Tooru?” Suzuya cut him off and said. But, since Mutsuki asked, he answered. “It’s a treat. For you, when you’re a good pup.” He brought the trainer a little closer to Mutsuki’s mouth. Mutsuki just looked at it, then at Suzuya. “Come on, don’t be scared. Try it! They’re human-grade!” He had eaten like, ten of them as a snack, already. 

Hesitantly, Mutsuki opened his mouth and took the treat. “There you go,” said Suzuya. “Was that so bad?” Mutsuki shook his head, no. “Didn’t think so.” Suzuya took another treat and tossed it away from them, towards the bedroom door. Mutsuki, again, just looked at it, and then at Suzuya.  


“Well, go get it,” Suzuya explained. Mutsuki complied, crawling away and licking his treat up off the floor. Suzuya had to fight so, so hard not to laugh, as he put another treat in his own empty hand. “Tooru!” he called, while Mutsuki was still eating his treat.  


The first task of the day to come semi-intuitively, Mutsuki sat up at turned his head towards Suzuya. Suzuya held his treat hand out again.  _ “Ici!”  _ Mutsuki came to him a lot quicker, that time. Suzuya played the ‘toss a treat and call him’ game a few more times, until Mutsuki seemed to get the hang of it, crawling over to him from any part of the room, to wherever in the room Suzuya was standing.  


After calling him one last time, Suzuya gave him his treat and tousled his hair. “Good job, Tooru!” he said with a smile. He always was a diligent learner. Teaching him something easier to execute than knife tricks really made that apparent. “For this next lesson, you’re gonna need your leash.” Suzuya would get a more size-appropriate one for Mutsuki before they played ‘puppy’ again, but for now, he picked up one of their cat leashes. “Will you be a good boy and let me put it on?”

_ “Mm-hm! Mm-hm!” _ Mutsuki nodded and hummed. A little more human-sounding than ‘woof!’ but not a word, and he would still be able to say it in a muzzle, which was what Suzuya decided his punishment would be, the first time he knowingly used people words when he wasn’t supposed to, so Suzuya decided to allow it. He hooked the leash into the d-ring of Mutsuki’s collar without saying anything.

“Good boy,” he said and gave Mutsuki another treat when he was done. “You ready to learn your next trick?” Mutsuki nodded. Suzuya turned toward the nearest wall and took one step in its direction.  _ “Au pied,”  _ he told Mutsuki, holding a treat near his own left side. Mutsuki crawled over to it and took the treat from his fingers. “Good boy.” Suzuya took a step.  _ “Au pied.”  _ Mutsuki followed. Treat. Step.  _ “Au pied.”  _ Treat. Two steps.  


They got up to three steps between rewards, making a circle around their bedroom. Once they were back where they started, Suzuya decided they had done enough heeling for the day and took Mutsuki’s leash off. Mutsuki got a treat and a head pet for doing so well. Then, Suzuya opened the bag again and replenished his handful of treats.  _ “Assis,”  _ he held one a few centimeters in front of and over Mutsuki’s head and said.  


He gave the command in Japanese when he did it with him, but Mutsuki must have seen him do the treat luring trick with their kitten, because he picked his forearms up off the floor and sat back on his ankles, right away. It was much the same case with  _ ‘reste,’ ‘d’accord,’  _ and  _ ‘coucher.’  _ They took a few tries at most, and then Suzuya figured Mutsuki understood what was being asked of him enough to move on.

“This is fun,” he said with a grin, after teaching Mutsuki  _ ‘coucher,’  _ to lie down. “I don’t even need to fuck you.” He could just train him for the rest of the day, or all night for all he cared. Mutsuki didn’t bark in protest. “Mm… But I still will!” Suzuya already had ideas. “If you’re a good puppy.” Like good or bad meant anything. Though he was just playing when he played her tricks on Mutsuki, Suzuya had learned from the master, how to twist the score into whatever the fuck he wanted it to be. “Now, we’ve been doing lots of basic stuff. Let’s teach you a game!”

He went to his supply pile on the bed and picked out a plushie of an akita-looking dog. “Tooru,” he said, holding the plushie out in front of him, at his face level.  _ “Rapporte!”  
_

Mutsuki stared at the plushie for what felt like a while. Tentatively, he reached out and took it in his mouth, like he did treats when Suzuya held them in front of him. “Good boy,” Suzuya cooed.  _ “Donne.”  _ To give Mutsuki a hint, he put his open hand under the plushie and made a tiny grabbing motion with his fingers until Mutsuki dropped it in his hand. “Good! You’re gonna learn this fast!”

For the next step, he set the plushie down on the floor, between them.  _ “Rapporte.”  _ Mutsuki picked it up and, before Suzuya told him to, dropped it in his hand when he reached out for it. “Good boy!” He set it down again and took a step back from it.  _ “Rapporte.”  
_

Mutsuki picked it up quickly. After one step back came two steps, then three steps. After three, Suzuya started tossing it across the room and Mutsuki crawled after it to bring it back to him. In fact, he picked it up so quickly; he gave Suzuya a delightfully evil idea.  


“Good boy!” Suzuya exclaimed when he brought the plushie back to him for the last time, that day. He scratched behind Mutsuki’s ear, as an extra reward before standing up and going to the bed.  _ “Ici!” _ Mutsuki came over. Suzuya praised him and gave him a treat.  _ “Assis.”  _ He sat. Praise. Treat. “You’re getting really good, with the plushie. But the ultimate goal is to get you to  _ rapporte _ anything I tell you to,” he said with a devilish smile. “You were such a good boy, today. Do you know where my violet wand is?” Mutsuki went wide-eyed and pale, but he nodded. “Will you do what we were doing with the plushie with it, when I tell you to?” Mutsuki swallowed a mouthful of nothing and slowly nodded again. Suzuya chuckled and pet Mutsuki’s head, then sat down on the edge of the bed.  


_ “Rapporte.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i kinda genuinely hc that the superficial details can change on a whim and don’t always say ‘petplay,’ but at its core their play dynamic is kinda that of a pet and its owner. bc suzuya was once a real pet with a real owner and that comes through in his sometimes very madam-like way of playing with a submissive masochist like mutsuki who /wants/ to be tortured as a reward/gift, among other elements that can parallel if not mimic what suzuya went through-- but with limits and a safeword. 
> 
> speaking of, suzuya’s commands are in french bc i figure if tsukiyama peppers his sentences with it, that could be something a lot of restaurant ghouls do to sound fancy, so suzuya could have picked up a tiny bit. at least enough for it to come to mind, when choosing a language mutsuki doesn’t understand (out of pure malice tbh) to train him in. and maybe its bc i used to be a hardcore ballet dancer, but it just feels like a good language to give a bunch of short, choppy commands in.


	11. The Devil's Playthings (Distant/Distracted Sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus points if u guess what movie i was lowkey watching when i wrote this so i decided they were watching it too bc i had no creative ideas. super bonus points if u know which installment, since (hint hint) it is part of a series.

Suzuya didn’t-- no, he couldn’t do idle hands. Even if the movie was good, it didn’t matter. Once he ran out of popcorn to pick up and pop into his mouth, his hands needed something else to do. Now, barely past the opening scene, he had an empty bowl, even having chewed the unpopped kernels as much as he physically could. He needed a new plan to keep his constant restlessness under control. Curse his voracious appetite for popcorn.

He could add to his body-stitching, but his kit was in the next room and he really didn’t want to let go of Mutsuki, get off the couch, find his crutches, and miss what was sure to be an important part of the twisty horror film playing on the television screen. Same with the tacky sweater he was knitting and the next addition to his amigurumi collection. He could squish a handful of play-dough, but his canister of the stuff sat on the coffee table, and Mutsuki lay between him and the coffee table. That brought him to the same problem he had with retrieving his needles and thread; he liked his arms right where they were, around Mutsuki’s waist, and his cheek right where it was, squished against Mutsuki’s chest so that, lying on his side, he could watch the movie while using Mutsuki, on his back, as a pillow. Save for his worn-off meds and idle hands, they were situated pretty fucking perfectly. So, how to engage his hands without leaving his spot?

His top hand crept from Mutsuki’s side to his stomach, then down to teasingly pull a little at the waistband of Mutsuki’s pyjama pants. Eyes still on the television, he felt Mutsuki stir under him. He didn’t look down to see exactly what Mutsuki was doing. The important thing was that a warm, calloused hand took his and slowly guided it under the loose elastic. If there was a way to say ‘yes, please’ without disrupting the movie, that was it. 

Suzuya wasn’t sure he wanted to know what about the movie turned Mutsuki on, but he felt turned on, feverish and as wet as he got without lube. His hand roamed idly, in no hurry to exhaust his new fidget toy as quickly as he had emptied their bowl of popcorn. By the time the beveled spikes pierced the first major victim’s throat in the movie, though, he had settled on teasing Mutsuki’s dick erect and playing with it however his hand wanted to move. 

Almost the entire thread of scenes between stages of the main character’s probably-demise, he spent manipulating the hood up and down its length, intermittently pushing a finger into Mutsuki’s hole to pick up as much arousal as he could. It took a few lazy repetitions of this improvised teasing cycle before his fingers stopped feeling like old velcro and he could get into an easy rhythm. His awareness of what he was doing to that rhythm cut in and out, depending on how boring the movie got. One transition scene, no gore and no major plot reveals, he caught himself rubbing slow circles with four fingers. Sometime before the next, he had switched to holding the enlarged nub with two fingers and his thumb, gently kneading it like a small piece of play-dough.

He could hear Mutsuki sigh and whimper until, every few beats of whatever he was doing to him at any given moment, his voice rose to a soft moan. But that was what closed captions were for. Suzuya just put that much more attention into reading them, when Mutsuki got loud enough to make a significant amount of background noise. 

Somehow, his leg ended up wrapping around one of Mutsuki’s. The one resting closest to the back of the couch. He didn’t consciously do anything with it, but it kept Mutsuki’s legs pried open, when he squirmed. That way, he didn’t have to stop watching the movie and tell Mutsuki to stay spread for him.

Mutsuki’s arm had been around him since they got comfortable, before they even hit ‘play.’ It was during the third victim’s round of the game that Suzuya felt groomed fingernails dig into his scapula, little more than a vague reminder that ‘oh, yeah. Mutsuki’s hand was there, huh?’ He was a lot more interested in how the main character’s plan to throw a key across a room with only a few planks for a floor was going to play out. Not well, for protagonist or victim.

It got kinda-sorta distracting toward the end. Nothing could really distract from the protagonist’s wife getting cooked alive, but Mutsuki grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and clawing at his shoulder came close. Even though screaming and sound effects dominated the mix, Suzuya had a hard time telling if Mutsuki’s escalating moans were really coming from him or part of the movie. Some of them were enough like sobbing to fit right in, especially as they grew louder and closer together. 

Someone got their face ripped open. Truth be told, a big reason why Suzuya kept watching these movies was his hope of seeing that fascinating little face-ripping-open device in action. Now their resident dirty cop had to do  _ something _ . And fast. He just killed the only other person left in the killer’s circle. Or had he? What was with these figures in masks interrupting his escape from the--

_ “Mmnh-!”  _ Mutsuki twisted himself so hard it tossed Suzuya from his spot, for a second. Not enough for him to stop moving his hand, but enough to get his attention. “Please, please, please, don’t change it, again,” Mutsuki whined, almost like he was crying. He made a sustained whimper, barely audible over the movie, before dissolving into another full-out moan.

Suzuya couldn’t help but giggle as he put his free hand under himself and pushed up a little, twisting at the waist so he loomed over Mutsuki. Only then did he rack his brain to remember if he had so much as looked at him through the entire movie. It had really been that long, huh? No wonder Mutsuki was such a mewling, writhing mess. Suzuya hadn’t paid him enough mind to notice just what a mess he was until right then.

As far as he knew, he did just as Mutsuki pleaded, no more, no less, continuing to rub in circles with four fingers. Mutsuki grabbed the couch cushion his head was on, his hand shrugged off Suzuya’s shirt when Suzuya changed positions. He squirmed and moaned, eyes shut and his head tipped back. Suzuya was tempted to reach down and kiss his vulnerable neck, but Mutsuki came, noisy and shaking like his orgasm was an intense one, before he got around to that.

“Good boy, Tooru,” Suzuya murmured. Maybe it wasn’t the whole movie, but Mutsuki had kept his hands occupied for a long time. Suzuya lowered himself enough to kiss his parted lips, gentle and sweet, his hand creeping up to rest over Mutsuki's hip. Mutsuki lazily kissed him back and they stayed like that for a few seconds until--

**“Game over.” **

Suzuya whipped his head around and looked at the television screen just as the theme music started to play and a heavy-looking door slammed shut. “Shit,” he said. “I missed the whole ending!” Mutsuki reached over and grabbed him his play-dough, before they put on another movie to make up for it.


	12. Can I Keep It? (Asphyxiation, Tentacles, Distention)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i mentioned in day 12 that there is a lot of big madam in suzuya’s domination style and mutsuki is into it? well he’s /really/ into it. bc u can't do a porn challenge for tokyo ghoul without doing tentacles

Debriefing was important. It helped investigators, especially lower-ranking ones such as himself, learn how the masters handled a mission. Mutsuki sat in the Suzuya squad’s row in one of the large meeting rooms, asking questions and going as far as taking notes on Haise and Urie’s retellings of the Auction Mopping Up Operation from beginning to end. At that point, though, it had grown monotonous, even for diligent Rank One Mutsuki. 

Suzuya sat next to him. He seldom attended anything that wasn’t mandatory. It was, in his own words, to see Mutsuki, that he and Hanbee had been catching debriefings in Chiyoda since his squad picked up and went back to Shibuya, after the Auction. Also his words, he missed him between training sessions and sleepovers at his place. 

What would Suzuya be, as a ghoul? Mutsuki looked at him and wondered. He had learned some of Suzuya’s background, from his confrontation with Big Madam at the Auction, and from him confiding in him, a little bit. Really, in his heart of hearts, he knew Suzuya would never be her. Oh, he could be playfully evil on the paintball course and in the bedroom, but never truly, seriously evil, like her. But the idea stuck in a part of Mutsuki’s head that didn’t really care what people were or weren’t, or anything even vaguely rational. 

_ Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs. He couldn’t turn around in his cage to see who was behind him and walking around him when he heard the chamber door open with a creak. It was a big cage, almost like a human-sized rabbit hutch made of sanded wood and chicken wire with a layer of some type of foam padding and a soft enough blanket between him and the chamber floor. Had he not made his new owner angry, had he not gotten himself muzzled and tied by each wrist to two upper corners of the kennel with access to nothing but a bedpan between his feet, he could not only turn, but crawl around in it. But he had, and now, Sir 13 himself, clad in a black rubber apron, gloves, and boots over a so-you-can’t-see-the-blood red longsleeve, stood in front of him with his now all too familiar picana electrica in hand and he wasn’t sure whether he was happy to see him or afraid of the pain he was obviously here to inflict on his pet. _

_ “Not so feisty now, are you, Dove?” Sir said with a smile. Before Mutsuki could even try to respond, he shoved the picana through the chicken wire and drove the electrodes into his side, near his underarm, making him scream through his muzzle. After a slow second, he drew it back just to stick it through another hole in the wire and attack his vulnerable inner thigh. Screams turned into choking sobs. Once he was satisfied, Sir kept the electrodes on him but turned the picana off, stirring the handle outside the cage so they ran up and down his spine. “Are you sorry for biting me?” he asked. _

_ Mutsuki whimpered and nodded, squirming under the electrodes. “Will you ever do that again?” He vehemently shook his head. “Good boy.” Despite the praise, Sir left him in the muzzle and kept the kennel closed. And he poked him one more time, once again attacking his inner thigh, the picana on full power. Mutsuki’s raw, tortured cry rang, even through his muzzle, off every wall of the chamber. _

_ Only then did Sir undo the sliding lock and open the kennel. He rested his picana against the wall and fished a small knife out of his apron. Mutsuki squeezed his eyes shut in dread, waiting for it to slice into his skin, only to feel his bonds fall off one wrist, then the other. Sir had just gotten out the knife to cut him free. _

_ “Thank you,” Mutsuki tried to murmur through the muzzle. Sir called him over and unstrapped it from his head once obeyed. “Thank you, Sir,” he said again.  _

_ “Are we gonna be good, now?” Sir asked. Mutsuki nodded vehemently. “Good. Let’s pick up where we left off before you decided to misbehave. Shall we?” _

_ Sir guided him over to a smooth wooden table. Mutsuki knew exactly what was going to happen: the gas mask exercise. It was Sir’s choice, what he had captured him for. He didn’t have to tell him, but Mutsuki suspected he was on the scrapper track, in the early stages of simply getting him used to pain as a reward. They had a varied, unpredictable regimen of exercises. The only thing any of them had in common were Mutsuki’s two options: pain, and a pain that made the other pain come as a relief.  _

_ For the gas mask exercise, he laid Mutsuki down on the table, face to the ceiling. He strapped a black gas mask onto Mutsuki’s face and prepared two things to put where the filter was supposed to go. Once everything was ready, he pulled a deck of trivia cards out of his apron and read the first question.  _

_ “What semi-aquatic, egg laying mammal is native to Australia and Tasmania?” he started this round with. His favorite question sets seemed to revolve around animals. _

_ “Platypus.” Mutsuki had to speak up, to be heard past the mask. At least he felt like he did. To him, his voice sounded echoing but stifled at the same time. But Sir never told him to talk any differently, so he hoped he was hearing him well.  _

_ “Good boy.” Sir rewarded the right answer by snapping a clean plastic cover onto the inhalation valve. It fit perfectly, allowing no air into the mask for as long as he wanted Mutsuki to suffocate. Mutsuki tried counting, to try and keep himself calm as his face started to feel tight and his chest started to hurt. But as his heart pounded harder and the visceral anxiety of ‘I can’t breathe!’ I can’t breathe!” set deeper in, it got harder to count out a full second. Sometimes he counted over a minute and other times he counted less than ten seconds, but he was never any more or less lightheaded when Sir finally took the cover off.  _

_ Despite the panic as he was actually asphyxiated, he tried his very best to get the trivia questions right, between rewards and punishments. He wanted to get them right, to hear Sir tell him what a good boy he was, to get the regular plastic valve cover. He really did, but Sir inevitably managed to ask something he just didn’t know the answer to.  _

_ “What spiny, venomous fish, common in home aquariums, has become an invasive species in Carribean and U.S. Atlantic coastal waters?” was one of those questions, after a short series of right answers, praise, and the clean valve cover.  _

_ “Um…” Sir got disappointed in him when he didn’t at least guess. “Pufferfish?” They were spiny, weren’t they? But were they poisonous or venomous? _

_ “Nope. Lionfish.” On top of the heavy, sinking feeling in his chest, just from the failure, Sir connected his inhalation valve to a corrugated tube with a small bag at the end.  _

_ Sometimes it was noxious amounts of menthol. Other times it was something that smelled like gasoline. This time, though, the bag was filled with chili pepper. Mutsuki didn’t know if it was powder, oil, or fresh peppers cut open and dropped into it, but what little air he had tasted like hot, uncooked chilis. As he struggled for air, he felt it burning in his eyes, nose, and mouth. _

_ He could hear his own agonized sobs and cries, trapped in the mask. It got hard to tell if he was choking on the fumes or choking because his body was wracked with tears of excruciating pain. His vision was clouded with tears that could have been from the heat of the peppers or simply him crying because he couldn’t breathe and it hurt to breathe at the same time and he would beg for mercy if he had the spare oxygen to use on talking. _

_ Instead of taking the tube off and moving onto the next trivia question, Sir unstrapped the gas mask and removed the whole thing. Mutsuki could feel cool air on his face, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. He trembled and coughed and bawled his eyes out, still going long after the burning had subsided. It had just hurt so much. He had been trying so hard, but Sir hurt him so much. The only thing that drew him even partway out of his crying fit was Sir’s voice, so calm it almost made Mutsuki jump, to hear it in the midst of his bawling.  _

_ “You’re not gonna be a scrapper.” Sir hopped up all the way onto the table and straddled Mutsuki’s chest. “I can tell right now, that’s just not gonna happen.” One hand planted into the table and the other crept up Mutsuki’s neck and into his hair. “Not a chance in hell.” _

_ “No, no,” Mutsuki murmured, struggling in vain under his strong legs. “Please, I’ll do better. I’ll-- I’ll get stronger! I’ll be good! I’ll be a good boy for you,” he sobbed. “Please don’t give up on me, Sir!”  _

_ “You were supposed to be my first one, you know,” said Suzuya. “I was so happy when I found a Dove to take home. Thought you’d be good with knives.” The hand in Mutsuki’s hair started brushing the sweat-sticky front and sides out of his face, smiling as he looked down at him. “But I like you soft.” Done with his hair, he used the petal-soft back of his hand to wipe the tears from Mutsuki’s eyes. “You’re so sweet and nice to play with, just like this. I don’t want you to change.” And the soft, sweet, pathetic creature underneath him would have to change, to be a scrapper. _

_ They were still at square one, but the Restaurant’s executioners were gradually conditioned until they grew numb enough to do what they were made to do without a qualm. And feeling couldn’t be selectively numbed. Just about everything else in the human heart got obliterated in that crossfire. Unless you got a human who was born different before you even laid a hand on them, you couldn’t have a good scrapper and a good pet in one. For once they were hardened, the former were killing machines, completely apathetic to pain and pleasure and all that fell in-between.  _

_ “Does that mean you’ll still keep me?” Mutsuki squeaked.  _

_ “Hm…” Suzuya scooched back, off Mutsuki enough to let him move again. “Get up.” Mutsuki complied to the point of sitting before Suzuya stopped him. “Ever seen a puppy or something sit, when it’s waiting for a treat?” he asked. Mutsuki nodded. “Then, like that. Sit.” _

_ With only shy, ‘am I doing it right?’ hesitation, Mutsuki sat back on his ankles, putting his hands down between his knees. “Now, stay.” Suzuya got all the way up from the pad and started to turn away. “I won’t be gone long.” He gave Mutsuki a pat on the head, then left, back up the stairs, shutting the door but not locking it behind him.  _

_ Mutsuki didn’t move a muscle, the entire time he was alone, obediently waiting when Sir’s quick footsteps started up again, closer and closer until he heard the door open. “Aww, you didn’t have to hold that still,” he cooed as he approached the pad and knelt down in front of him. He wore a red shirt and black leggings now, his apron and gloves gone. “Such a good boy.” With his empty hand, he reached over and pinched Mutsuki’s cheek, hard. Mutsuki whimpered at the sting. His eyes squeezed shut until Sir let him go. _

_ Sir set what he had gone to get down in a little black heap, next to his knee. “My good boy deserves to look the part,” he said as he picked up the very top of the heap. A jet black collar with a golden bell in the middle. He held an end of it in each hand, at chest height. “I’ve never, ever put this on anyone. Isn’t that nice?” He put it around Mutsuki’s neck and fastened it snug. “You’re still my first something!”  _

_ “Thank you for making me your first, Sir,” Mutsuki said with a shy smile.  _

_ “Fuck the Restaurant, anyway. I only ever go there when I reeeeally don’t feel like looking for food. My new pet will be so much more fun to play with. Won’t you?” _

_ “Yes! Of course, Sir! I promise, Sir!” _

_ “Gotta warn you, though, I’ll make sure you never harden. So I can’t play with you like this all the time. Sometimes it can be like this, and sometimes I’ll play meaner, and sometimes I’ll play nicer, and sometimes I won’t play with you at all. So you won’t ever get all the way used to it.” _

_ “I don’t want to be hardened, Sir.” He really didn’t. He hated that he had to fight, to shed blood, to be so tough, just to be allowed to survive in this world. Why was there always something around every corner that didn’t want him to stay kind? To stay gentle? Soft? Him? Why was the cosmic background radiation of machismo so thick and strong that he wanted to melt into his master’s arms and sob, just from hearing that someone liked him as he was? That he didn’t have to man up, prove himself, change, to be valued? _

_ “Sweet pet. We’re still gonna have lots of time to play down here, though. Let’s go upstairs, for now.” Suzuya grabbed the second thing he brought. A matching leash to go with the collar. “You’re so cute on all fours,” he said as he stood up and clipped the leash to the back of his collar. “But we’ll get up there faster if you walk.” He gave the leash a little pull, and Mutsuki quickly shuffled to his feet. _

_ They walked up the chamber stairs together. Sir’s henchmen smiled and waved at Mutsuki as they passed them, before snapping back into character and pretending not to notice him. Sir’s dogs, regal doberman pinschers that doubled as guard dogs when it was their shift, padded over, whining and licking Mutsuki’s hands until Mutsuki told them to go and lie down.  
_

_ One more flight of stairs up, then down the main hall, and they reached Sir’s bedroom. It wasn’t as big as the chamber, but it was spacious. The bed was neatly made, as though it hadn’t been slept in recently, with deep purple-red linens and a plushy-looking blanket, similar to the one over the padding of Mutsuki’s hutch, downstairs, just a different color.  
_

_ Sir had him sit, on his ankles like a puppy, in the middle of the mattress before he unhooked his leash and went to hang it on the same hook all his pets’ leashes were on. Mutsuki’s was the only leather one.  
_

_ “So,” Sir said as he then hopped into bed across from him. “Since you’re my pet, you can come upstairs if you want. All the dogs can roam around, so it’s only fair that you can, too. That said, I’d explore a little bit at a time. You could get lost in this place.” _

_ “Okay, Sir. Um, thank you, Sir.” _

_ “And you’ve been calling me ‘Sir.’ Everybody calls me that, though. All the other Madams and Sirs use ‘Mama’ and ‘Papa’ but… I dunno, you’re like my age. And I’m deeeefinitely playing with this cute little guy.” He gave Mutsuki a pat just barely above his pussy. “So ‘Papa’ would be super creepy, don’t you think?” He looked up at the ceiling in contemplation. “How about I can be… ‘Master?’ What do you think of that?” He wasn’t concerned with the opinion of a pet, but he wanted to hear it from the one who would be calling him that all the time. _

_ “It’s nice… Master.” _

_ “Ooh.” He liked it, for now. But how could he really try it out, without taking him back into the secret chamber and potentially doing more damage than he wanted to his fragile pet?  
_

_ His eyes went black. Mutsuki could hear the tearing-flesh sound of kagune coming out to play. “What did we learn about being a good boy, today?” Mutsuki couldn’t bring himself to look, feeling supple tendrils slither up his limbs and around his torso. “You don’t have to repeat it.” Feeling what had to be his ribbonlike rinkaku coil snug but not strangling around his waist, Mutsuki felt something heavy settle in his gut. “But you do have to show me.”  _

_ "Master...? What are you doing?" Mutsuki peeped. One thinner koukaku tentacle wrapped around Mutsuki’s wrists and lifted them above his head. Another slithered around one of his thighs and pulled it out to the side. They held him tightly in place to where all he could do was try feebly to squirm. And the two of them left Master plenty of tentacles free to play with. "Master--!" _

_ Before he could get another word in, one tentacle went in Mutsuki’s mouth. His jaw was sore, just taking it in. Within seconds, he could feel drool and what was either blood from Master’s back or some kind of secretion the CCG didn’t tell him about falling down his chin. It tasted metallic and protein-y. Like raw meat marinated in molten copper.  
_

_ He whimpered through it as he felt another tentacle slither up to his pussy. The second tentacle pushed in slowly, a little bit of the tapered head at a time, but the pressure was overwhelming. Master could have told him his belly was distending out and he would have believed it. Once the entire taper was in, Master started thrusting it, deep and unrelenting.  
_

_ Mutsuki thought he was numb from the pressure and sensation, his nerves shot, just too much there for anything else to make a difference, until another tentacle poked at his ass. It didn’t feel any thinner than the ones fucking into his mouth and pussy. He could feel the fluid that also splattered his chin and thighs pooling and dribbling down from his hole. He went from babbling Master's name through the tentacle in his mouth to screaming when it pushed in. _

_ “Gross,” Master said with an amused giggle, as he thrust all three. “You can see them moving around in there.” Mutsuki knew he felt overwhelmingly full in places he never knew he could even feel, like something was pushing and slithering in his belly at once, but it wasn’t until he looked down that he realized there really was a visible bulge, like he was a few months pregnant. _

_ When Master lost interest in kagune-fucking him and the tentacles stilled, Mutsuki wasn’t sure if he had cum or not. Frankly, he didn’t care. That full feeling was enough for him. Doing good by his Master was enough for him. "Thank you... Master..." he murmured, breathless and splattered in a mystery combination of fluids. _

_ The rinkaku let him go and he fell into a puddle on the mattress. Master caught him before his head could hit the pillow. No one would have looked at his long, lithe arms and expected them to lift his own weight and more over his head. But he was so strong, making it look controlled and easy as he held him up close, cradled safe against his chest. _

_ “Good boy.” Master laid a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You can definitely call me ‘Master,’ from now on. And I’m gonna name you… Tooru.” For how adorable a reaction everything poking and penetrative drew out of him. “My sweet little Tooru.” One more sweet kiss and a few more minutes of holding him, then Master pulled his bikaku out, coaxing a quiet, whimpering moan out of a half-sleeping Tooru. He slowly lowered him down to the pillow and took his arms away. “I’ll clean you up in the morning. You make the whole room smell nice, all bloody.”  _

_ With that, Master laid down beside him and took pulled him close by his waist. “Ooh, you’re so warm, too.” He giggled and nestled up closer. His freezing hands and icy feet made Tooru flinch, but at the same time, Master’s touch was akin to a cooling salve against his own broken, bruised, burning skin. “I know you said the pad was okay, but you make such a good bed-warmer. Hope you like cuddling with me.”  
_

_ Truth be told, the pad had grown on him. As had the chamber, the instruments taunting him from the walls, the cool basement air. It was where Master made him his pet. But the idea of sleeping down there alone for the rest of this game, especially now that he was bundled in the alternative… maybe they could break character for a minute and reevaluate that part of the-- _

“You okay, Tooru?” Suzuya turned his head to him and asked, breaking him out of his trance. “You looked like you were about to take a nap,” he said, smiling at him, impossible to read. Chances were, the possible hint of knowing amusement in his look was just Mutsuki’s imagination, distorted by anxiety and embarrassment. Letting his thoughts wander during a debriefing was bad enough. Letting them wander to  _ that?  _ He needed to find a hole to die in.

“Um… yeah. Yeah!” he said with a nervous laugh. “I just… uh, didn’t sleep much, last night. I’m a little drowsy, I guess.”  


“Mm… midday sugar rush might get you through the day.” Suzuya got up from his seat. “Let’s get doughnuts!” It was their Friday ritual. Suzuya’s and Hanbee’s, and Suzuya was determined to make Mutsuki a part of it, every time they were in the same field office.  


“Sure! Um…” He liked being a part of the ritual. Any opportunity to spend time with Suzuya. The question was not ‘yes or no,’ but ‘how.’ “Why don’t you meet me out front in, maybe, a minute? I have to get my… coat.” And get his arousal cooled down. He had picked a horrible day to wear boxers.


	13. Functional Decor (Forniphilia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've written a decent handful of kinks now, and u wanna know that my kink is? writing a oneshot that's less than 500 words.

Suzuya liked to keep a balance of function and form. The sleek black catsuit he had Mutsuki in, the fucking machine thrusting into his tight little ass, those were for looks. If he was going to have him crouched in the middle of the living room floor for a couple of hours, Suzuya wanted to be able to look up from his knitting or down from whatever movie he was watching and see his favorite color, hence black latex over everything but Mutsuki’s head and between his legs. And he sounded so cute in the background, whimpering and moaning while he got his ass fucked. Suzuya never liked a silent room but couldn’t always pick what to watch or listen to for white noise, and now he had one more way to remedy that. The strict homemade bondage device that kept Mutsuki almost completely still on all fours, only able to move his hands and feet once strapped in, however, was purely practical. Suzuya built it to keep Mutsuki nice and square, and to prevent him from squirming too much, so he didn’t drop anything. 

About an hour into using him as a coffee table, Suzuya came to a stopping point with the socks he was making and set his work down on Mutsuki’s back. He got up from the couch and knelt down by Mutsuki’s face. 

“Hi,” he said with a smile. “How you holding up?” One of his hands reached out to pet Mutsuki’s hair while he waited for an answer. 

_“Mn... _Never better,” Mutsuki murmured, audibly fighting to talk instead of moan. “It's not time to stop, already, is it?”

“Nope. You’ve still got a while left to go.” Suzuya chuckled. “Catsuit’s not getting too hot, is it?” Mutsuki shook his head. Suzuya reached over and picked up the bottle of lube standing on Mutsuki’s shoulder blade. “You ready for a touch-up?” he held it at Mutsuki’s eye level and asked. To that, Mutsuki nodded.

“Yes, please.”

“Okie dokie.” Suzuya would do that on his way to the kitchenette. “I was getting up to grab a snack. You want anything?”

“I’m good.” Mutsuki gave him a knit smile. “Just hurry back. Please.” 

“Alrighty. Don’t say I didn’t offer.” Suzuya picked up Mutsuki’s chin with his free hand and gave him a short kiss. “Be back in a second,” he said before rising back to his feet and going around to give Mutsuki that touch-up he promised. Once that was done, he went to get his snack. His evil side wanted to make something in the microwave, to see what would happen when he set the hot bowl down on Mutsuki.


	14. Just a Slight Pinch (Nipple Play)

Mutsuki was in tears, trying and failing to hold still as Suzuya’s hand crept up to his chest. To be fair, Suzuya had picked an especially mean pair of clamps to leave on his nipples through the majority the scene they were playing, stainless steel alligator clips with sharp little teeth that hadn’t drawn blood, but Mutsuki winced every time they were touched or moved even a tiny bit.   


“One at a time, or both?” Suzuya asked calmly, pushing one of the clamps from side to side while Mutsuki whimpered and struggled to answer him with some semblance of composure. “Tooru, do you wanna take them off one at a time, or take them both off now?” Ultimately, Suzuya would decide, but why not get his input? He did sound so cute, mewling through every attempt at a word as Suzuya played with the clamp and waited for him to say something.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Mutsuki repeated like it was all one word. “I don’t want you to take them off,” he squeaked. They had to come off. Mutsuki was a rational person. He knew that. Suzuya figured what he meant was that he wished he could have them off without going through the ordeal of taking them off.  


“Aww, is Tooru scared of how much it’ll hurt?” Suzuya teased. Mutsuki nodded and whimpered in affirmation. “Alrighty.” Suzuya could turn that into an answer. “Then let’s see what you have to be afraid of!” He took the clamp in his fingers and, before Mutsuki could finish his protest, pinched it open.  


_ “Ow! Ow!”  _ Mutsuki’s voice broke. He twisted under Suzuya for a few seconds before he composed himself, a little teary-eyed looking up at him. “That really hurt,” he peeped.

“That’s one down, though,” said Suzuya. “And that means you just have one more to go!” He wanted Mutsuki to calm down, first. Not as any service to him, but so he would go through all of this again, one more time, before he was done. 


	15. When Juuzou's Away (Masturbation, Collaring, Orgasm Denial)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *old radio mc voice* this one’s for all you bottoms out there, who might be getting a little freaked out by erotica not from your point of view.

It was always a little weird, having to choose what to wear for himself. No matter how many times he meticulously laid his choices out across their bed and looked them up and down for the right combination, he struggled with the final say being in his hands. Suzuya always made it so much easier, when he was there to call the shots. But Mutsuki liked having cuffs around his extremities and a collar around his neck, even with Suzuya on an urgent distress call that saw him not coming back until late and Mutsuki home alone, in need of a way to pass the unforeseen time to himself. 

He decided to get the hardest part over with first and pick his collar. Suzuya had made him a few of varying materials and designs, then there was the one with a padlock in the back that Suzuya had bought him for his birthday, and the minky e-collar Suzuya sometimes made him wear as a dehumanizing take on a posture collar, but Mutsuki ultimately decided on his perverse favorite: the hand-me-down collar. Black leather with a d-shaped ring to hook a leash or tie-out chain onto, and a golden bell in the middle. 

He hadn’t always been sure how he felt about wearing something Big Madam once  _ made _ Suzuya wear, but it had grown on him. Just the thought of how much Suzuya enjoyed seeing him in it was enough to dissolve his misgivings about it, not to mention the sharp sting when he squirmed too much and it started to abrade his skin, the bell jingling in rhythm with each slow thrust of Suzuya’s strap-on into him no matter how quiet he tried to be, the heavy feel of the thick leather made more to be inescapable than comfortable. He loved it. And it seemed like what Suzuya might pick, if he hadn’t gotten that call. 

Once he put it on, he paired it with their plain black cuffs, newer and padded on the inside for the wearer’s comfort, but they matched the collar enough. Suzuya liked to make him look nice, when he accessorized him. It only felt right to try and do the same to himself, and simple seemed to be the best way to go about that, without Suzuya’s artistic eye. And they matched his binder, the only thing he was wearing, out of the desire not to have to struggle back into it when Suzuya got home. 

Then, he took the dildo out of Suzuya’s strap-on, threw it on their bed with a condom and a bottle of lube, and put everything else away before climbing onto the mattress. He rolled the condom onto his chosen toy for the day and brought it, along with the bottle, to the headboard with him as he laid partway down against it. He popped open the bottle and lubed up his fingers before easing his index into his pussy. 

Suzuya liked to drag it out. Maybe ‘dragging it out’ was a crude way to say it, but he was never in a hurry to get from any one point to another, when he fucked him. He could never get around to actually fucking him, for all he cared. Not that Mutsuki minded that. Before Suzuya, Mutsuki would have never thought he could feel safe enough with someone to fool around, let alone relish the attention so much, but Suzuya’s all-over kisses, his wandering hands, what felt like a languid, blissful forever until he moved on, roaming indiscriminately to every part of him he just so happened to like… thinking about it sure helped move things along, putting in another finger and warming himself up. 

As soon as he was ready, he wasted no time pulling out and switching his fingers for the dildo. He left Suzuya in charge of what he fucked him with, and he didn’t regret that decision one bit. Suzuya had good taste. Sure, he had his own reasons for picking it that most likely had nothing to do with what Mutsuki liked, but the dildo felt so, so good. Comfortably filling with enough length to bottom out and still have an easy time holding the base. 

Small sighs and moans started to fill the room as he started to build a steady rhythm. His pace was as quick as he could go without sacrificing the deep penetration or hurting himself. For doing this out of a lack of anything better to do, he felt so desperate, once he got into it. Man, would Suzuya, the master of calm and indifferent in bed, laugh at him if he saw him like this.

Why was he thinking so much about Suzuya? Maybe it was an ace thing, but Mutsuki’s fantasy partner was always faceless, more of a disembodied touch, voice, vague sense of submitting to something, whatever was on his mind, than a person. Then again, since they were faceless, they could be anyone, so why not Suzuya? He liked the way Suzuya played with him, and really, even when they were having straight-up vanilla boredom sex, he did play with him. 

What would he do if he walked in on him right now? Realistically, he would probably turn right back around, shut the door, and give him his privacy. Or maybe he would feel frisky and hop onto the bed with him. Maybe he would tease and badger him to keep going until, tentatively, a little bit embarrassed of himself, he did. Maybe he would praise him in that way that, perhaps because of his own background, balanced so delicately on a knife’s edge right in the middle of endearing and demeaning, for being a good boy and putting on a show for him. 

But Suzuya wasn’t the type to just watch. No, after a while, he would want in on the action. Mutsuki’s free hand found its way to his navel and stayed there, imagining Suzuya’s hands and lips in its place. To this day, he still had no idea what was so pleasurable about Suzuya’s obsession with his stomach. Suzuya knew how many nerve endings were around there better than he did, but maybe it was more psychological. He felt so vulnerable and submissive and soft, rolled over for Suzuya to pet like his affectionate puppy. It wasn’t something that ever occurred to him, let alone anything he knew he would like until Suzuya impulsively gave him a full-on belly rub one day, but he loved it. His own hand wasn’t a terrible substitute either, bigger and not as strong, but almost as callused as Suzuya’s from almost as many hours of practice with his knives. 

From there, Mutsuki’s free hand crept down. Four fingers pressed gently against his dick and he started to rub in slow, rhythmic circles.  _ “Ohh--!”  _ When did he get so close? His breath came in shallow pants, head tipped back as he sped up with both hands. It was starting to feel too good. 

But Suzuya would be home soon. Suzuya wasn’t into orgasm control, and neither was Mutsuki. It wasn’t like he wasn’t  _ allowed  _ or anything, but Mutsuki knew endurance was not his strong point. He didn’t want to exhaust himself right now. Not when he didn’t know how long he would have to pull himself together, maybe even take a nap, before Suzuya came through the door. 

Stopping, though, came so much harder when he was on his own. Maybe because he didn’t have the playfulness and intimacy he did with Suzuya, just tension, tension, and more tension building in his dick. Or maybe he was that agonizingly close. Whichever it was, he practically had to tear his hands away. He immediately felt a little bit empty, having not been ready to part with the dildo filling him up. Even as he cooled down, he felt tenser and touchier than he had been before. Was killing some time worth it? He had no idea. What he did know was, as much as he hoped he was still up for it when he got home, playing with Suzuya tonight was going to be torture.


	16. Renaissance Man (Role Reversal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hell hell hell hell another long one. someone pls appreciate the cleverness of my title. 
> 
> on another note, october is now over. i’ll finish this challenge eventually, but i’m putting it on hold to finish up tabula rasa bc tbh even though it’s been fun and i’ve enjoyed working on something else for a month, absence has definitely made the heart grow fonder and i don’t wanna spend more than two years on tabula rasa.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Mutsuki asked for the millionth time in the four days he had been putting his own idea off, since asking Suzuya for a turn on top. Even kneeling across from each other on their bed, Suzuya naked and ready when he was, he asked, again. “I mean, if you don’t want to, you can say so." 

“Nah,” Suzuya said with a smile. “It’ll be fun.” He hoped so, anyway. He wasn’t actually sure how fun it would or wouldn’t be, but he did know that good performers weren’t limited to one act. Triple threats, actor-directors, hidden talents, jacks of all trades, they could do it all. When he lived with Mama, he himself entertained her guests with a victim and a knife, or with acrobatic numbers, magic tricks, songs, dances, all kinds of performances she taught him. Playing with Mutsuki, for him, was another performance. So, as a performer, and a good one at that, he could totally mix it up and bottom, for a change. “Do  _ you _ want to?” 

Everyday social cues were one thing. Suzuya would never be able to ‘read people’ like Mutsuki could. He knew and accepted that. But Mutsuki had a few less complicated, more specific tells. With enough practice, Suzuya could sometimes figure out what they meant. 

Mutsuki looked almost straight down when he had a bad training session and Suzuya decided for the third or fourth time that day to skip the armed exercise they were supposed to do. He fidgeted with his clothes, usually the bottom hem of his shirt, when he spilled coffee on one of Suzuya’s stuffed animals and was trying to keep him from looking for it until he finished getting the stain and subsequent vinegar smell out of it. When he said he had a blue shell and really, he had a banana peel, he stared at his DS screen and never, ever blinked. He had been doing all three from the get-go, just like every time his switching proposal came up.

“Well, yeah, it’s a thing I want to try.” Mutsuki went quiet for a minute, still fidgeting, still averting eyes, still staring where he  _ could _ bring himself to look. “But what you want is important, too,” he said. For that one line, he picked up his head and looked a little more at Suzuya than at the mattress. “I… I know I’m the one asking, but… I really  _ don’t  _ want to make you feel like you have to please me.”

Truth be told, the entire point was that Suzuya didn’t have to please him, for once. Suzuya treated his role in their play like a craft. And he was good at his craft. Of course he didn’t let Mutsuki see the seams. He never broke character, always the sweet, calm, unaffected tormentor. He made it so easy not to think, not to ask ‘what about Juuzou?’ Too easy, to go months without ever stopping to realize that Mutsuki had never returned the favor. 

Mutsuki knew intimately well what that meant. Everything he enjoyed about submitting to him, Suzuya did without. He never got to relax when he was always working on something. He never got to let go when he always had his unbreakable control to hold onto. For Mutsuki, that was a good enough reason to bite the bullet and take over for a night, or whenever Suzuya might want after getting to try it. Suzuya deserved to be taken care of. 

“Okie dokie,” Suzuya chirped. If he said so. Mutsuki understood that Suzuya was even less psychic than the average man. He understood how important it was to be straight-up with him. He didn’t lie. He didn’t equivocate. Not to Suzuya. He knew better.

“Alright.” Mutsuki gave him a small, short smile back. Then, he turned serious, again. “If you think I might have really hurt you, what do you say?” he asked.

“Nutcracker.” 

“Or I’m making you uncomfortable?”

“Nutcracker,” Suzuya singsonged and rolled his eyes. 

“Or you just want to stop?”

“Nutcracker.” He sighed it that time. “Don’t you trust me, Tooru?” They never quizzed each other this hard even when they first introduced the exact same shit with him on the giving end. And he was pretty sure he could take just about anything and then some that he usually gave. 

“Yes! Of course! I just… I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes went wide and his posture straightened. “Unless you want me to! If you think you might like it, I’ll…” Why would someone indifferent to pain want to be hurt? That made as much sense as him being afraid to be hurt. “ _ Right. _ ” Nevermind. “Um, I’m ready to start.” Or at least to stop talking. “Are you?”

“Yep. I’m all yours!” All his. Mutsuki felt a little queasy as it sank in that the threshold was officially crossed, that this was happening. Surely, there was something he was forgetting. He was doing something wrong. He could feel it. Maybe he should have asked Suzuya if he remembered their safeword, at least one more time. 

But the way Suzuya stared --no, not stared, _ glared _ \-- at him when he peeped his name as if about to ask again, shut him up before he even thought of a new way to phrase it. He just needed to steel his nerves and do something. For Suzuya, he reminded himself. For Suzuya. 

What did he _want_ to do with him, though? What Suzuya wanted, was the first, the only thing, that came to mind. But Suzuya had been blunt about it when Mutsuki first brought up switching; he didn’t know what he wanted. That was another small part of why they decided to keep the dominance and submission aspect, at least for now. Suzuya had no idea what he would do, on the receiving end, with 50/50 control. Mutsuki couldn’t help but feel like that was his fault, like he should have taken it upon himself to do something about it before. He knew _he_ deserved for his selfishness to come back and bite him, but Suzuya didn’t. 

Maybe figuring out what he liked would be a good start. God, what if he did something Suzuya didn’t like? He might have forgotten to think about that before he asked him to switch. But it made his stomach drop when the idea finally occurred to him. The voice of reason had no qualms ripping him to smaller and smaller shreds as he stared at Suzuya, but he had to at least tell himself that wouldn’t happen long enough to actually try something.

“Okay,” he said after what felt like forever, staring and struggling. “Um… how about… you lie down?” 

“Pfft. You don’t have to say it like a question,” said Suzuya. “You’re in charge!” That was one of his favorite things about being the other way around. He didn’t have to grapple with all the rules for being polite and nice; he could just tell Mutsuki what to do as it came to his mind. He didn’t know. He found Mutsuki’s politeness funny.

“Well, then, do it!” Mutsuki exclaimed, red and quickly getting flustered. “Please?” he couldn’t help but add at the end, already feeling awful for talking to Suzuya like that. A silent pause befell them as Suzuya started to comply. Mutsuki desperately hoped he and Suzuya didn’t turn out to have similar tastes; he would implode if he had to be mean to him. Even though he also felt pathetic as Suzuya snickered at him again, laying on his back with his hands at his head. “What’s so funny?!”

“Mm-mm.” Suzuya shrugged in what way he could. “I guess you are!” he said with a smile. Kneeling over him like he was, all blushing and looking at him like he was doing some agonizingly complicated knife trick he expected him to learn, he just wanted to pull Mutsuki into his lap. But he figured he wasn’t supposed to do that. That would throw Mutsuki off what he wanted to do, and he had the goodness in his heart not to do that to him. 

Instead, he held still, trying to make a game of holding as still and pliant as possible to insure he would do it, while Mutsuki crawled up closer and kissed him. Mutsuki started at his lips and Suzuya reciprocated with a smile. He liked this. Would that it wasn’t so short-lived. One kiss, and Mutsuki moved onto his jawline, his neck. As soon as Mutsuki’s lips left his, he wanted to sit up, pin Mutsuki to the bed, and pepper his face with kisses. For Mutsuki, though, he contained himself as Mutsuki ventured to his clavicle, his chest, his stomach. 

“You’re so beautiful, Juuzou,” Mutsuki looked up from Suzuya’s hips and said with a sheepish smile. “I know I don’t… show my appreciation… enough. But… yeah.” Suzuya couldn’t help but laugh full-out at that.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He liked the way he looked, but he wondered what ‘enough’ appreciation for his appearance looked like. 

Once he made rounds to every part of Suzuya’s body, almost like he didn’t know where to kiss him, Mutsuki retreated back to sitting on his ankles and grabbed a nitrile glove off the mattress, by his knees. He snapped it on and then picked up a bottle of lube from the same small pile of supplies. “Are you, um…” he started to ask. “Are you ready to, uh…” Fuck. Truth be told, he didn’t know how he felt about it, but he wasn’t going to deny Suzuya the opportunity to find something he liked on account of his nerves or squeamishness or whatever it was that made him question if he really wanted to do this. 

“Go ahead.” Suzuya grabbed his own hamstrings and pulled himself into a comically exaggerated almost-piledriver position. Mutsuki could feel his face turning red, but he fought the strong, strong urge to hide behind his hands.

“You don’t have to be like that!” he exclaimed. “Just…” He had looked up as many tips as he could. He wanted to make it good, for Suzuya. “Here.” He crawled over and grabbed a pillow from the head of the mattress, setting it where Suzuya’s ass would be when he put it down. “And, can you let go of your legs?” Suzuya complied. “Is that more comfortable?”

“Snug as a bug.”

“Great! Um, so now, just… let me take care of the rest.” Suzuya gave him an ‘okay!’ and Mutsuki lubed up his fingers. He brought his index, to start with, to Suzuya’s ass. “You’re still okay with this?” he asked. Suzuya nodded and chirped another go-ahead at him, so, ever so slowly, he pushed into him. 

“Ew,” Suzuya said through a laugh when Mutsuki started moving his finger around. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Mutsuki immediately stopped and pulled out. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Mm-hm.” Just a little confused as to what he did that made him seem not-okay. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“Nah. Do your thing.” Suzuya smiled and reassured him. “You couldn’t hurt me if you wanted to.” Injuring him, maybe, was possible, regardless of how aware his brain made him of it _ .  _ But given how afraid he was to put a finger in his ass, Suzuya doubted Mutsuki was any more capable of inflicting hurt than he himself was of recognizing it. 

“Right.” He hesitated, opening his mouth to say something else, but apparently decided against it. “Just, um… let me know… if you want me to do anything different. Okay?” 

“Okay.” With that, he pushed his finger back in and Suzuya didn’t say shit. It was a deliberate effort. He consciously avoided laughing or commenting, this time, low-key hoping that if he didn’t distract him, Mutsuki would be done feeling around sooner. And Mutsuki  _ really _ felt around in there. 

In his mind, Mutsuki knew their first time, ever, wasn’t so goal-oriented. He knew how much fun it was to just experiment, to let Suzuya explore him and see what happened. But he had already wasted so much of Suzuya’s time. If he couldn’t explore him with a shred of confidence, then the least he could do was please him. Not even he could blunder something so universal. 

That said, he was starting to wonder if it was really universal. Just how small did the human prostate start out? He expected Suzuya’s to be hard to find, but after another minute or so of trying, Mutsuki seriously feared he would hurt him before he found anything. The entire time, as he grew more and more worried about eviscerating him, or something more down-to-earth but still painful to think about, Suzuya just watched him with an apathetic look that made him want to curl up and die. 

“I… I don’t think I should try any harder,” Mutsuki eventually gave up and said, absolutely sure he had felt around everywhere and the only remaining solution was to put more pressure into it. “Want me to try something else?” 

‘Want’ seemed like a strong word, but Suzuya nodded. He could live with it, and he guessed that was enough. And it was easier, he was starting to realize, if he treated Mutsuki’s questions like he was just forgetting to command. They would be there a lot longer than he was capable of sitting still, if he didn’t just let Mutsuki forget.

Mutsuki changed into a clean glove and re-lubed his fingers. He felt awful for it; this was supposed to be about Suzuya, and he was supposed to be excited to fulfil any desire Suzuya might have, but he couldn’t help but be relieved by the confirmation that he had no use for Suzuya’s strap-on in the near future. 

“Tell me if you like this better. Alright?” he asked and brought four fingers underhand to Suzuya’s dick. They were close to the same size, so Mutsuki tried to think of what he would do with himself, when it stopped being painful just to walk around in loose underwear and he could stand to touch his own again, rubbing slow circles and waiting for Suzuya to say something. 

“That’s kinda nice,” eventually, Suzuya told him. Nothing he would set aside time to feel or make an actual effort to seek out.  _ Definitely _ nothing he would sacrifice his favorite snack --hell, any snack-- for, but he wasn’t suffering. The body language seemed so similar; he could seldom tell if Mutsuki was in pain or pleasure unless he told him so, so he sometimes wondered if sex was kind of like Good Boy Points: nothing truly good ever in it for the recipient, but after a lifetime of being taught that it was normal, if not compulsory, at worst and a reward to look forward to at best, of course people would try to earn it anyway. Question answered. 

Now, though, he wondered how long he would have to do this before he had the foggiest idea why anyone would do anything remotely less-than-convenient for it. It made sense that he and Mutsuki just about only ever played when they were bored. But even the in-scene lengths he had seen Mutsuki go to were still a mystery. He could take what he was feeling right now or leave it, not having to do anything. Were someone to tell him to do any one of the sometimes-unpleasant things he told Mutsuki to do before he fucked him, he didn’t see why he couldn’t just go ‘okay’ and not get fucked. 

Part of him considered doing just that, for as much as he didn’t hate the feeling itself, he was starting to get restless. Being bored was a good enough reason to fool around. Was being bored also a good enough reason to tap out? It wasn’t like Mutsuki could say shit, even if it wasn’t. A safeword was a safeword. But then again, Mutsuki made being on the receiving end look like such an experience. Maybe he should give it a bit more of a chance. 

Ultimately, Suzuya decided to keep quiet. For one, he hadn’t gotten the urge to whimper and mewl like Mutsuki did, and for another, he didn’t have all his answers. It wouldn’t leave the back of his mind, this awareness that there was still something at play that he hadn’t taken apart and figured out. There was a reason Mutsuki wanted to do this so bad. Something would happen eventually if he just complied. He wasn’t completely sure what, but something. And it would be a lie to say Mutsuki, at this point, didn’t have him a little curious. “I like it.”

“Really?” Mutsuki slowed down almost to a stop and said with the same face he made when he pulled off a difficult trick with his knives. “You… you like this?”

“Yep,” Suzuya said with a calm smile. Before he could catch himself, he slipped into his teasing voice. “I should make you rub my dick more often.” Though maybe more like that creep from the Skull Masks case. Some position that didn’t let Mutsuki have all the fun. But as if calculated to pull Suzuya out of his brainstorming, Mutsuki’s hand froze. As did the rest of his body. His eyes went wide and his face turned red. 

“Um-- Ah-- That’s good!” Mutsuki struggled to say. “That’s really… good. How about, I, uh…” He scrambled to his supplies and picked out a bullet vibrator. “Can I try this?” he asked. Suzuya nodded, so he cut a finger off one of his spare gloves and stretched it over the bullet. To start, he rested it gently against the underside of Suzuya’s dick and turned it on. 

For only a split second, it was no different from Mutsuki’s hand. Suzuya liked the bullet okay too, for that one split second. But it got intense fast, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it when it got  _ that  _ intense. 

“Tooru, what did you do?” he had to make an effort to say. He had to make an effort to spit out a full sentence at all. Did it make sense? Probably not. But he didn’t really have words for what he was trying to call attention to. 

It was like he had spilled boiling water inside his thighs, an invisible burn prickling a full centimeter deep into his flesh. Up a little higher, he began to feel the same creeping sensation from the stomach up his throat that he felt when he was about to vomit. His breath wanted to go uneven and he wasn’t sure why. His hands went looking for something to grip and found the bedsheets. Digging his fingernails into two fistfuls of blanket made him feel a little better, and maybe it helped Mutsuki piece together what he was trying to tell him. 

“It’s okay. This is okay,” he said as Suzuya’s breath got audibly faster. “You’re, um…” A tense smile twitched onto Mutsuki’s face. “You’re… getting aroused, is all.” So what was happening was supposed to happen. Nothing to be concerned about, he had seen Mutsuki in the same state enough times to know.

But now he did want to scream. The drawn-out peep he made to soothe himself must have been louder than he thought, because Mutsuki smiled, the first full-on smile Suzuya could remember seeing from him all night. “You sound really cute.” He slowly reached over to kiss. “Good boy,” he pulled away and said before Suzuya could even think to reciprocate. 

Mama always talked to him like that, so Suzuya figured, for the longest time, it was just normal. It was never a special thing to call people until Mutsuki stammered through a confession that he liked it, specifically when they played. But it sounded wrong when Mutsuki said it. Not possessive or territorial wrong, as in ‘only  _ I _ get to call  _ you _ that,’ but like hearing a tourist butcher a phrase from their shitty guidebook. It sounded wrong because he said it wrong. If it was possible to just  _ say things _ wrong.

He shifted in his place and tried to put a little distance between himself and the vibration, but that made the touch lighter and the whole thing even worse. Another high-pitched whine started in the back of his throat, creeping up into his face, then his head. Mutsuki’s smile and soft-spoken reassurance told him that it was normal, the squirming and the squeaking and the overall feeling of  _ too much _ creeping up his skin. Not just in that one spot anymore, but like there was a centipede or something small with a lot of legs on their bed and it meandered onto him. Lots of stray centipedes, crawling onto different parts of him out of nowhere until he was completely encased, like a mummy wrapped in wriggling scolopendra. But that too was normal, apparently, as much as he wanted to scratch them off.

“You’re doing so great, Juuzou.” Mutsuki moved his free hand further up the mattress. A kiss to his cheek made his face crawl almost as bad as between his thighs. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let it happen,” Mutsuki said, and Suzuya wished he would just shut the fuck up. His voice sounded like his voice, but it  _ felt _ like a fork scraping a ceramic plate. “Let me please you.” His caressing hand became a cautery soaked in glue, stinging and leaving a sticky snail trail everywhere it touched. 

Normal or not, he didn’t care anymore. Mutsuki’s voice, his touch, the humming bullet, the pressure, the crawling, and everything around him blurred into an overwhelming cacophony that he needed to escape from. Nothing but ‘escape’ screamed at him with any semblance of clarity. He had to be done. He had to get out of this. He had to-- Mutsuki’s other hand pushed a little harder against his dick and what little control Suzuya still held onto shattered. 

He felt the momentum. His limbs flailed hard. Something was in the way and his heel hit it with a deep  _ crunch _ and a sudden, fleeting burst of pressure. But as soon as he curled up into a tight ball, knee pressed as close as humanly possible to his chest, arms around his head while his hands scratched at his scalp and pulled at his hair, nothing existed outside that tight ball. Violently, desperately, he threw himself back and forth, rocking on the mattress as hard as he could.

His head was full of angry bees, all buzzing relentlessly behind his eyes. He was screaming, his close-mouthed scream that never echoed through his childhood home and made Mama cross like a regular scream. He could tell by the pressure and the buzzing. The sound itself, though, was lost on him. Everything that came in his ears was membrane-blasting white noise, and everything in front of his eyes was a strobe light flashing way too bright. In his chest, tears built up and crept into his throat before running down his cheeks. Every last one dried and clung to his face, making him cry harder at one more thing touching him.

Scratching stopped being enough. He drove his nails into his own head, balled his hands into fists and hammered his skull as hard and fast as he could, grabbed fistfuls of hair and pulled. Anything for an atom of relief. 

When he heard a voice, close to him, though, his hands made a helmet over his ears and clamped down. Vision blurred with tears anyway, he couldn’t stand the too-bright light of their bedroom at dusk and squeezed his eyes shut. Something small touched his free thigh and he didn’t think; he grabbed it and threw it, hard enough to hear it slam into something solid for the second he had to uncover an ear, in whatever direction his arm felt like moving in.

Whether it had been seconds or hours, he had no idea. But the room went black and he could open his eyes when he physically couldn’t cry anymore. His throat felt scratchy and didn’t want to swallow, air getting caught in an uncomfortable place when he tried, like it always did when he screamed a lot. Though his mind was tentative, there came a moment when he simply couldn’t hold his hands up to his ears anymore. His arms went slack, but the room was quiet enough that he didn’t instinctively try to force them back up. Something bigger than the first thing, smooth and soft to grip, came into contact with one of his hands. Instead of throwing it again, he grabbed it and held it close, sobbing into it and squeezing as hard as he had the strength left to. 

Mutsuki struggled through a small sigh of relief, still breathless and his chest still aching from Suzuya kicking him back. A pillow was all he could think to give him, but it seemed enough to soothe Suzuya, at least a little bit. Turning out the lights, too, and keeping quiet, always seemed to bring him back from a meltdown quicker, and with less aggressive self-harm, than if he did nothing. Would that he hadn’t panicked and thrown him a plushie with those glassy eyes, first. He hadn’t been thinking straight enough to make sure he grabbed one with an embroidered face that wouldn’t crack if thrown across the room. 

He hated to see Suzuya cry, but at least he was just crying, now. Once upon a time, Mutsuki thought he could never get used to seeing someone he cared about suffer like Suzuya was and just having to wait until he burned out, but sure enough, he watched him rock and cling to his pillow until even that started to slow down. Only then did he get back on the bed, slowly inching close enough to potentially get kicked in the chest again, if he repeated his mistakes.

“Juuzou?” he murmured. He wanted to panic, to self-flagellate. He wanted to clamber up to him and apologize, apologize, apologize. The only thing that restrained him from smothering Suzuya with frantic attempts to put the meltdown out was his knowing that more information coming at him was the last thing Suzuya needed. So he exercised some self-control and kept his distance.

On the second quiet repetition of his name, Suzuya looked up from his pillow. It was probably best that Mutsuki had killed the lights, nothing but the setting sun out the curtained window to illuminate Suzuya's tear-streaked face. Just what he could see of it, wide-eyed and chewing on his own folded index finger, cut and twisted in his chest like a dull knife.

“Do you...” Mutsuki forced his voice to stay calm and soft. “Do you want a hug?” Suzuya managed a wordless peep and a tiny nod. Mutsuki came a little closer. He opened his arms enough for Suzuya to crawl into them when he wanted to, but on contact, Suzuya flinched. He backed off faster than he came forward, hands creeping forth to scratch wherever, in that split second, they had touched. 

Only then did Mutsuki realize that Suzuya was still naked. Sometimes his clothes served as a kind of barrier between his defensive nerves and all the different textures Mutsuki didn’t even think about until a distressed Suzuya took him by the wrist and urged him to leave wherever he hadn’t worn long enough sleeves or pants to with him, or just up and left by himself. “Do you want to get dressed?” Mutsuki asked. 

“Mm-hm.” Mutsuki got up to pick out a pair of loose, long-sleeved pyjamas for him, careful to stack them in the right order: pants on top, shirt on the bottom. He put them on the bed and gave them an audible pat with an open hand, to let Suzuya know they were there. Suzuya stopped rocking and grabbed them only seconds after. He let go of his pillow and clumsily dressed himself, struggling but not struggling enough to ask Mutsuki, verbally or otherwise, for help.

“Do you still want a hug?” Mutsuki asked him when, after a try or two, he was done. Suzuya answered by scooching up closer and pressing his cheek to Mutsuki’s chest. He let his weight fall on him. His arms hung slack between their two sides. Mutsuki put his own arms all the way around Suzuya, shoulders included, like a cocoon. He held him tight, so tight his allistic mind told him he would break him, and then a little tighter, until Suzuya started to pull away.

“Thanks, Tooru,” Suzuya murmured, hugging his knee back into his chest and rocking again, more gently than he had been earlier. Mutsuki managed a little smile at him. It helped to see him starting to recover. 

“You want some water?” he asked. Suzuya shook his head. “What about something to eat?” To that, Suzuya nodded. “Any idea what you want?” Mutsuki could see Suzuya try to answer him. 

Five seconds, at most, though, and Suzuya started to make his distressed whine again. God, Mutsuki  _ knew  _ that was one of his distressed sounds. He tried not to feel too guilty to function, asking himself why he hadn’t made the connection when he still had a chance to  _ not _ push him deeper into his now-obvious overload. “Nevermind, nevermind,” he said before Suzuya got any more frustrated. 

Any other time, Suzuya thrived off flexibility. Mutsuki adored the way he lit up at the sight of a stocked case of sweets or anything colorful and full of choices. But in sensory overload, information overload, or a combination, more choices just meant more input than he had room to process. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Mutsuki still had no idea how Suzuya could stand it. It wasn’t like Suzuya’s overload. Rather than anything like that, Mutsuki felt like he had walked into one of the Saw movies, the second he left the room. Nothing in the kitchenette felt like the right thing to bring back. He could see his options without them all becoming one overwhelming blur; he just couldn’t reach out and grab anything without dreading the thought of making a mistake, but he couldn’t stand there and stare at the wall without the agony of knowing Suzuya was waiting for him. 

His sole saving grace was that it wasn’t Suzuya’s first time melting down in front of him. It narrowed his selection some, knowing what he absolutely could and couldn’t handle. Nothing mixed, even if Suzuya normally liked the combination. Nothing chewy or stringy that would leave pieces and make his mouth feel, in his words, weird. Nothing sticky that he would have to feel on his hands, mouth, or anywhere it ended up.

Maybe a pudding cup would be good. But  _ why _ did they have to buy pudding by the variety pack? Mutsuki opened the fridge and immediately fell into a staring spell, frozen with his eyes on the four different-colored rows of cups. What kind of pudding might Suzuya want? What if he brought the wrong one and made everything worse? How could he not remember Suzuya’s favorite pudding? And when did he settle on pudding?!

He forced himself to at least stick with the pudding, if for no other reason than to avoid standing there all night. He had yet to do Suzuya any harm with pudding. So he tried to remember that and not let himself backtrack as he picked a cup at random, not even letting himself look at it for fear he would start questioning his selection, grabbed a spoon, and hurried back to bed. 

“How’s this?” he asked, hesitantly setting a cup of chocolate pudding on the mattress, within Suzuya’s reach, before taking a seat next to him. Suzuya took the cup, and the spoon when Mutsuki handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said in a grave, lifeless monotone. Few sights on Earth were sadder than Suzuya Juuzou eating a pudding cup like a robotic marionette, no apparent joy in a single spoonful. Mutsuki knew his face and body didn’t always match what he felt inside. That said, there was a pattern to the mismatch, and Mutsuki still didn’t like what the pattern told him. Suzuya’s neutral expression was a smile. His neutral voice was his singsongy chirp. He cried when he melted down, and tears just weren’t his language, any other time. And up until a meltdown, he got calmer on the outside as his stress or exhaustion went higher. 

“Anytime.” Mutsuki watched him finish the cup. Even though it was mechanical and outwardly calm, Suzuya ate it fast and licked his spoon clean. So there was some enthusiasm there. Any hint that he was feeling better, Mutsuki accepted. “Can I take that?” he asked when he was sure Suzuya was done, holding out his hands.

“Go ahead.” Suzuya passed the empty cup and spoon over. Mutsuki tossed the cup in the bedside trash and got back up to drop the spoon in the sink. When he came back for good, nothing more he could think of to do away from Suzuya, Suzuya had laid down and rolled himself maki-style into an extra throw they kept on their bed, specifically for him to self-soothe at night without pulling a shared blanket off Mutsuki. 

“Are you still awake?” Mutsuki stayed standing by the bed and asked. “Juuzou?” Slowly, Suzuya poked his head out from his blanket.

“Yep.” But not for long. Suzuya felt like his blood had been replaced with lead, capillaries in his eyelids too heavy to keep them open. Meltdowns did that to him. From real world experience, he knew for a fact that he felt less like weighted jello when he actually had a bone crushed. 

“Do you want some company?” Or maybe the blanket was meant to help him shut everything out and just be alone, for a while. If it was the latter, Mutsuki wouldn’t have minded taking the couch even if he didn’t feel so guilty. But he refrained from preemptively turning around and leaving until he saw Suzuya nod. And in case that wasn’t clear, Suzuya tunnelled a hand out of his roll and tapped on the mattress.

“Hey, Tooru,” he murmured, once Mutsuki climbed into bed and sat against the headboard, at arm’s reach from him.

“Mm-hm?”

“Hug me, again?” His blanket was good, but his blanket and a tight squeeze would be better.

“I’d be glad to.” Mutsuki lowered himself all the way down to his back and then rolled over to put an arm over the Suzuya-maki. His other arm slipped under him and he held him as close as he physically could. “Is this good?” Suzuya nodded.

“You give nice hugs.” He nuzzled into Mutsuki and squished the side of his face against his chest. Mutsuki’s heart beat, deep and comforting, in his ear, if he pressed up close. “Not nice enough to switch with you again.” Even if he hadn’t gone from bored to melting down, his capacity to just blank out like that, unable to tell how done he was until he couldn’t think straight enough to say he was done, seemed like a big red flag that relinquishing control was not for him. “But they’re nice.” A tiny smile, not even a real smile by Suzuya standards, twitched in the corners of his mouth as he pulled back enough to look at Mutsuki while they lay face to face.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” said Mutsuki. “For everything.” He didn’t expect Suzuya to be up for unpacking the scene and talking about every wrong move in depth, right now. But he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, if he didn’t at least let him know how sorry he was. “I should have accepted that it was a bad idea when all I could think was ‘whatever Juuzou wants to do.’” Or four days ago, when Suzuya said ‘sure’ to the idea and his tepid obligation-excitement turned to pure dread. Or when he first got the impulse to act on guilt instead of want, to begin with. Long before it crossed the line into physically torturing the man he wanted so badly to please.

“Yeah. It was a pretty bad idea.” Never happening again. Ever. “But I forgive you.” Sometimes it took a mistake to figure shit out. Mutsuki seemed to get that, when it was him who needed to stop. Plus, the fuck-up was mutual. It made no sense to hold a grudge against Mutsuki when he was the one who let his curiosity kill his agency. “Is your collarbone okay?” If he looked up, the first thing he saw was the awful bruise peeking from Mutsuki’s neckline. His slash was more powerful than his kick, but it wouldn’t be the first bone he broke with the latter. 

“Not broken. Not for long, at least,” Mutsuki said with a rueful frown. “I’m a lot more worried about you.” Pure suffering, Mutsuki had come to understand Suzuya's meltdowns as. So much, taken so far past the point of soothing that it didn’t matter who he hurt, be it himself or someone else or both; he was just as along for the ride as anything else he touched. “Are you okay?” 

“Mm-hm.” Getting there, anyway. “Really, though, that looks bad,” he said, still examining Mutsuki’s bluish clavicle that did, upon a close inspection, look slightly deformed. “Want me to get you some ice?”

“No, no,” Mutsuki insisted. “Worst case, it’s a little bit broken and takes a few minutes to heal.” And it hurt more than the maybe-fracture, the thought of Suzuya having to come to his rescue, even now. “If I want ice, the least I can do is get it myself.”

“Okay.” Suzuya was used to the ‘least I can dos’ and ‘don’t worry about mes.’ Mutsuki was just as big a bundle of them when they were the other way around. It was up to him then, and it was up to him now, if he wanted to be worried about or not. Plus, Suzuya didn’t want to leave his blanket roll, now that he thought about it. He didn’t really want to talk, anymore, either. Mutsuki seemed to take a hint when he nuzzled him too close to speak unobstructed by his chest, and stopped asking him questions, just petting his hair and hugging him tight in near-silence.

Mutsuki always said he felt safe, when Suzuya held him. Protected. Cherished. Suzuya didn’t know about any of that, taking a turn in Mutsuki’s arms, but cuddling with Mutsuki was a much easier calm-down stim than finding something solid to hit his head on or a corner to squeeze himself into. He wasn’t about to wiggle out of them.

Suzuya fell asleep easily post-meltdown. Exhaustion made him feel like he had just downed a whole bottle of Nyquil when he crashed from the fight-or-flight. Always. No matter who or what was around him. Snuggled up to Mutsuki was a nice place to fall asleep easily, though.


	17. Public Displays of Astringency (Public, Emeto, Suspension, Branding)

“So how do you know this place so well, again?” Mutsuki couldn’t help but ask. Not that he judged Suzuya for knowing what he liked. Not everyone needed as much time to experiment as he had, before realizing they liked hanging out at hardcore BDSM dungeons on their nights off. And not that he didn’t envy the masochist strung up in the alcove, mewling pathetically over the background music while a resident dominatrix whipped them raw. But, nonetheless, he was curious. “I thought I was your first.” 

“Well, yeah. I hadn’t ever fucked anybody before you,” said Suzuya, seemingly indifferent to everything going on around their table that Mutsuki couldn’t help staring at in a mix of sympathetic pain and wanting to be next. “I used to come here to practice my stitches!” There was no easier place to find someone willing to have a thick needle repeatedly driven into the surface of their skin and embroidery threaded into the wounds. “And some other tricks _someone _said he would loooove to try, if he only knew where to find the rigging.” Suzuya grinned at Mutsuki, then looked over at the alcove. “The stage is free until midnight tonight, after those guys get done. If you were serious.” 

“Really?” Mutsuki made the face he made when he found a book he had been wanting to read at the library, or when he walked into a stationery store during a sale he hadn’t known about. “But--!” Suddenly, that face faded and his eyes went wide. “But Juuzou! There are so many people around!”

“And?” Suzuya said with a calm smile. “You say that like I haven’t always wanted to show you off.” Like an artistic masterpiece in a gallery. And he had learned most of the shit he did with Mutsuki as art, years before Mutsuki introduced it as an act of intimacy. Truth be told, one of very few reasons he could ever see himself going to the trouble of finding another playmate was that he missed the element of having an audience. 

“...” The music and sounds of torture from the alcove kept going in the background, but their table went silent for a minute. “As long as you stay close by,” Mutsuki eventually said with a tiny smile. Suzuya couldn’t help a big, excited grin back.

And that was how he got Mutsuki where he was, now. Shyly crossing his arms over his stomach and chest in nothing but a pair of boyshorts, waiting for him to finish setting up the suspension rig in the middle of the ceiling while the dominatrix cleaned up after her scene. Suzuya could look away from his work and see that almost the entire club was completely ignoring them and doing their own thing, but Mutsuki stayed folded over and as close to him as he could get without hiding behind him or being in his way. He had offered to blindfold him, but Mutsuki insisted that would just make him more nervous.

When the alcove was ready to go and Suzuya had all his supplies from home out, he called Mutsuki to him and sat him down on a block next to his table of medical equipment and hooks. “Ready?” he asked. Mutsuki took a deep breath, then nodded. So Suzuya pulled up the black surgical mask he had come in wearing and put on a pair of nitrile gloves. With them on, he tore open an alcohol towelette and gave Mutsuki a nearly complete wipe-down, marked the spots he intended to pierce with a gentian marker, then picked up the first of his set of hooks. 

Mutsuki gave him no hint that anything was wrong. His breath hitched for a second, when the hook touched his shoulder blade. Other than that, he held still and kept quiet. Then, Suzuya poked where the entry point was going to be, and Mutsuki was hunched over, retching and heaving a little bit. That, Suzuya set his hook back down and went around to investigate. 

Mutsuki threw up a mouthful between his own knees. None of it got on him, but the alcove floor was splattered with a puddle of his bile. “I’m sorry,” he murmured between gasps for air. “I’m sorry. That’s really disgusting.” 

“You’re not sick, are you?” Suzuya asked in a low voice. Mutsuki shook his head. 

“No. I’m fine,” said Mutsuki. “Seriously, it was just nerves. I’ll calm down. You can keep going.” 

Suzuya waited one more beat. Mutsuki didn’t say anything else, just sat back up straight and took another deep breath. He was really so anxious about the hooks that he stress-vomited on the floor in front of a club full of strangers. Something about that made Suzuya smile. And it made him really want to put the first hook in. 

He always liked a little splatter. He knew he was really unravelling his poor victim, when a game with fastidious Mutsuki turned some kind, any kind, of messy because of him. Excited as it got him, though, Mutsuki’s upchuck also gave him some new ideas. 

“Mm... Not so fast,” he said with a devilish grin. “I think you owe everybody an apology for making such a big mess.” They still didn’t have much of an audience, maybe two or three people intermittently looking up from their drinks to see what was up in the alcove, but it wasn’t like absolutely no one had just had to see that. “If you really want to do this, that would be a good way to start convincing me.”

“I’m… I’m really sorry…” Mutsuki started to murmur. “For throwing up on the stage.”

“I see your lips moving, but I can’t hear you over the music,” said Suzuya. “Speak up.”

“I’m sorry for throwing up all over the stage!”

“And?”

“And--! And pretending I wasn’t scared until it was too late! And making a mess of your clean space to work! And being so disgusting in public! Please, forgive me?” 

“Hm…” Suzuya pretended to take a moment of consideration. “I guess I can forgive you.” He took a step back from Mutsuki. “But I don’t think it’s fair that I have to mop up your mess so I can reward you.” He grabbed the rag, bucket, and box of sanitizing wipes tucked in the corner of the alcove and laid them in a dry spot within Mutsuki’s reach. “Be a good boy and clean it.”

Mutsuki picked up the rag and complied while Suzuya rearranged the alcove, a little. He moved Mutsuki’s seat, once Mutsuki had wiped it down, to the back of the alcove. By the time he dug up the folding treatment table that was still in the same place it was when he used to come to the club alone, Mutsuki had made enough progress on the floor to let him unfold that and set it in the block’s place. He had changed his mind, as to what position he wanted Mutsuki in. When the alcove was clean, he had Mutsuki lie face-down on the table, hands at his ears, before he prepped him again and changed some of the marks on him. 

He pinched a big fingerful of flesh and pierced his first hook through Mutsuki’s shoulder blade, slow and steady. Mutsuki whimpered at the initial breaking of skin, breathing deep but heavy as Suzuya pushed it towards the exit point. “There you go,” Suzuya cooed. “Hold nice and still, for me.” In his effort to obey, Mutsuki gasp-screamed loud enough to make one particularly nearby table chuckle, as the hook went through the exit point. “Only nine more.” Before he moved on, though, he tethered the first hook to the rigging over their heads. 

He repeated the process with Mutsuki’s other shoulder, his back, his forearms, his legs, until he had him in what would be a superman suspension, when he removed the table under his ‘superman.’ Before he did that, though, he just gave the rigging a small pull, watching the tension of all ten hooks. As soon as he was sure he was pulling each one the same amount, he started to really lift Mutsuki off the table. 

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Mutsuki exclaimed when he started to come off of it. “Juuzou? Juuzou! Is this supposed to--?” He hadn’t finished his question when he was several centimeters off the table, high enough that Suzuya could easily move it off to the side of the alcove. “Oh wow…” Suzuya could hear him take a deep breath, sighing through the exhale. He couldn’t help a small laugh. Mutsuki was so cute.

“You like it?” he asked, giving Mutsuki a gentle push and watching him sway ever so slightly back and forth. He knew how it felt, physically, to be in Mutsuki’s position. When he was in it, though, he didn’t have a choice. So, naturally, he was curious as to how it felt to be suspended willingly. 

“Yeah,” Mutsuki breathed. “Oh my gosh, so… this is it?”

“Mm-hm. And you did so good, taking all those hooks.” Suzuya stepped around to stand by Mutuski’s shoulder and affectionately tousled his hair. “I’m so proud of you,” he cooed. “I think you deserve something special.” He took a split second to pat Mutsuki’s lower back, over his kakuhou, on his way to retrieve another piece of equipment from his supply pile, sanitize it, and plug it into the wall. 

As soon as it was ready to go, he brought his violet wand over to Mutsuki. He came up between Mutsuki’s legs and turned the wand on, startling Mutsuki with the noise as the neon red branding electrode in its base came to life. He had little ability to move, hanging from the ceiling, but Suzuya could see him tense, when he hovered the electrode over his lower back, close enough to burn. Suzuya couldn’t see his face, but Mutsuki sounded like he was biting his lip, poorly stifled cries escaping his throat as he passed the electrode across his skin, leaving a shallow trail of purple-red behind it. 

_ “Ahh-hah! _Not a lot of passes, please!” Mutsuki squeaked about halfway through the first. His voice broke, a little, like he was on the verge of crying. “I don’t know why it stings so much, just… please.” Someone wasn’t feeling quite as tough as Suzuya thought he was. 

“You know how this goes, Tooru,” said Suzuya, smiling. “If I don’t go over it enough, it won’t last.” The first pass was already regenerating, by the time he soothed Mutsuki --at least enough that he could trust him to hold still-- and went over his design a second time. 

After a slow-going third pass, he stopped. Mutsuki didn’t cry, but when he talked to him, he could hear in his voice that he was close. Most urgent, though, they were cutting it close to the time limit Mutsuki had proposed when they discussed this game hypothetically, for how long to keep him in the air. So, he gave Mutsuki’s brand three passes before he put his wand away and brought the treatment table back out, to make it quicker and easier to get him down. 

“Count of three?” he asked when he had Mutsuki lying on the table, again. 

“Yeah. That sounds good.” Mutsuki took a deep breath.

“Ready?” 

“Ready.”

Suzuya pinched his shoulder again and pulled the first hook out, then dropped it in the club’s hospital-sized sharps container. Mutsuki winced and bit his lip when he then put his hands where the hook had been, kneading between the two wounds and letting them bleed until he was as sure as he could be that he had at least gotten enough blood and air out of the middle. He used a piece of gauze from his supply pile and a syringe of saline to clean away the blood before moving onto the next hook.

By the time all 10 hooks were out, Mutsuki’s brand had gone from raw pink to the deep purple-red of a healing burn. Suzuya knew he could have done something more elaborate, with more time to work on it, but he liked the spread pair of bird’s wings he drew over Mutsuki’s kakuhou. The simple lines turned out cute and no less angelic than if he outlined every feather and hatched in something to resemble shading. 

After he finished cleaning him up, Suzuya grabbed Mutsuki his clothes from his pile. He cleaned up and, once he was dressed, Mutsuki insisted on helping him before they found a comfortable booth toward the corner of the club, to hang out and decompress over drinks. 

“So much fun,” Mutsuki called his first suspension, when they talked about it, huddled together on the same side of their table, his head on Suzuya’s shoulder. “We should do this, again.”

“Yay!” Suzuya so wanted to take Mutsuki to the alcove again, too. Unable to contain his excitement at the prospect, he couldn’t help but kiss him. Only then did he remember that he never let Mutsuki rinse his own mouth, when he made him clean the alcove.

The second he registered the taste, he recoiled back. Mutsuki’s had been a very liquid spit-up, but as such, it was so fucking sour. Then the bitter, acidic note came front and center and he just had to drown it in his glass of umeshu. When he set said glass back down, Mutsuki was sitting up and laughing quietly. “Laughing at me?”

“No! No!” said Mutsuki. “Not at you! I just--” More laughter, stifled by his hand. “Are you okay?” He was barely staying composed, with knit eyebrows and a strained smile. “That must have been so gross.”

“Yeah. It’s not that bad.” He had tasted worse than a mouthful of stomach acid. “But you’re gonna have to rinse your mouth out before I kiss you again.” Mutsuki must have wanted a kiss as much as Suzuya did, because he immediately got up and went to the restroom, as soon as Suzuya said that. 


	18. Bottom of the Pyramid (Impact Play, Cuckolding, Handjobs, Threesome (Or More))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it still 2019? no. am i a badger who sinks my claws into every fic i write and won't let go until it's finished no matter how long it takes? yes. that said, i want to be done with this challenge so bad. honestly i would have done so much more terrible shit to mutsuki if i didn't just want to be done.

After precisely an hour of waiting, the door opened with a creak and the smallest, most tentative peep of “guys?” echoed through the abandoned lecture theatre as Mutsuki tiptoed in from the spooky hallway. 

“Took you long enough,” said Suzuya, standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms. The rest of the squad stood behind him, eerily illuminated by the votives burning in the aisles between seats and in front of the blackboard. Everyone but Mutsuki wore their black coats and armbands unique to the Suzuya Squad. “Didn’t run into any ghouls, did you?” That was why the old 13th Academy was abandoned. Ghouls destroyed the place decades ago. “Maybe we can throw you to them if you can’t get through initiation.”

“No, sir,” said Mutsuki, making a feeble and ultimately failed attempt to keep his voice from shaking. Whether he was saying ‘no,’ he hadn’t encountered any ghouls or ‘no,’ please don’t feed me to them, he tried to clarify, but he stammered and grew too rambling to give a straight answer, so he ultimately left it at ‘no.’ Suzuya couldn’t help a small smile, seeing him so nervous. 

“Well,” he said. “You got here in one piece, so go ahead and strip.”

“What?!”

“Take off your clothes, Transfer.” Mutsuki stared at him with wide eyes for a second before he obeyed, slowly undoing his tie and pulling it through the collar of his shirt. He didn’t take his eyes off the group, unbuttoning his dress shirt, his slacks, and peeling them both off. Slowest to be dropped in a heap on the floor were his underwear. 

Once they were off, Mutsuki stood with one arm wrapped around his chest and the other hand over his crotch. That wouldn’t do. "Stand up fucking straight.” Mutsuki complied. “Feet apart.” He took one step out to each side. “Hands behind your head.” He clasped them near the base of his skull as if under arrest. “Now, state your name and rank.”

“Mutsuki Tooru! Rank One!” Suzuya could hear the attempt made to project his deep voice, shaky and audibly compensating for his natural soft-spokenness. It worked well enough that he could stand not to make him introduce himself again.

“Why are you here, Rank One?”

“Because I want, with a burning desire, to be a part of the Suzuya Squad!”

“And how far would you go to prove it?”

“I’ll do anything!” Suzuya grinned in delight at ‘anything.’ Cool, collected, and committed as he was to the game being played, he could already see how fun it was going to be to test that statement. He was ready to test it, and get the initiation rite started. 

“Okay,” he said. “Get on the floor. Face down.” Mutsuki obeyed and Suzuya turned to the rest of the squad. “Mm… Mizurou. You’re up first!” He took a small step back and Tamaki came up closer, black paddle in hand, and took a knee beside him. “As for you, Transfer,” he said to Mutsuki. “Start counting at 52.” 

_ Smack!  _ Tamaki brought the paddle down on Mutsuki’s ass, not as hard as he could have, but hard enough to make Mutsuki yelp before remembering to say, “51!”  _ Smack!  _ “50!”  _ Smack! _ “49!” He whimpered in anticipation of being hit again, but he didn’t get to the point of driving his nails into the floorboards and crying for mercy.

After 13 strikes with Tamaki’s paddle, Mutsuki’s voice was a shaky, but still composed, the hint of red quickly disappearing across his ass. Suzuya was more than ready to change that. “Keijin,” with his rattan cane, he elected to go next. At that point, he invited the entire rest of the squad to come up and watch Mutsuki writhe on the floor 

“38!” Mutsuki squeaked and tensed his entire body as the cane landed directly under his ass, a short-lived welt bubbling up, staying a second longer than Tamaki’s paddle-marks, and vanishing.

Perhaps Nakarai picked up on Suzuya’s hint of disappointment that he let his first mark fade before giving him another, or perhaps it just sank in that he had a short turn to make the most of, because he sped up after that initial swat, and he made the marks last longer. “37!” came as a full-out scream that he barely got to finish saying before “36!”  _ SMACK! _ “35!” His voice climbed a few steps higher and grew thick with unshed tears. “ _ AH-HAH!  _ 30… 34!” the hardest, nastiest strike yet, pushed him over the edge into crying. By the time Nakarai finished his turn, Mutsuki’s crying had escalated to helplessly blubbering through the numbers and sobbing into the floor between strikes, his thighs a swollen, bleeding red and brown brindle. 

Mikage quickly took Nakarai’s place. His instrument of choice was a star-shaped crop that left a small reddened constellation across Mutsuki’s upper back. The stars looked cute. They really did, but Mutsuki ended Mikage’s round with less blood and fewer tears than Suzuya wanted him to. It fell on him; Suzuya supposed, to really  _ break  _ the new meat in. 

He chose a leather strap as his way to welcome Mutsuki into his squad. Passing the end of it lightly over the fading stars on his back, just long enough to let him recognize what it was, made him whimper. He raised it to strike and Mutsuki went tense. 

_ SMACK!  _ The right combination of position and power sliced into Mutsuki’s flesh and left a thin line of blood under the berry streak that quickly morphed into purple. Mutsuki shrieked on impact before pulling himself together enough to cry out “Four!”  _ Smack!  _ Another bruising, cutting strike that turned Mutsuki’s counting into screaming how many he had left, across his all-too-regenerated ass.  _ Smack!  _ His thighs.  _ Smack!  _ His back, again.  _ Smack!  _ His ass. 

Just because he could, he swiped the strap once more across his thighs, after the count was over. Mutsuki didn’t protest or question it, just recoiled and made a noise between a moan and a scream. His posterior side was a messy watercolor of brown, berry, purple, blue, and dripping blood red. 

“On your knees, Transfer,” Suzuya gave him no time to recover before commanding, calm but with enough authority that Mutsuki, despite wincing and shaking the entire time, scrambled as fast as he could up to kneeling. “Open your mouth.” Mutsuki complied. “Close it, turn away, or bite, and your uniform stays in my locker for the rest of your career.” Suzuya’s indifferent face stretched into a poisonously sweet smile. “Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mutsuki. He resumed holding his mouth open, the second he was finished talking. So good. Suzuya genuinely hoped he didn’t fuck his initiation rite up. Not that he had any intention of making it easy for him. 

He let Nakarai try him out first, curious to see what Mutsuki would do when he stepped forward, unzipped his slacks, and put a dick in front of him that he had to do more with than look cute while he sucked it. Though he didn’t shut his mouth or try to take his face away from it, Mutsuki did nothing but stare at the head for a second after Suzuya told him to blow his teammate until he was told to stop. Ever so slowly, looking up at Nakarai the entire time, he gave it a hesitant little kitten-lick. 

“You can do better than that,” said Nakarai. Mutsuki took that as an order to take the entire head in his mouth. He then pulled back and brought his lips a little ways up the shaft. A little more, the next pull and push. A little more. A little more.

As Mutsuki got into a steady rhythm with Nakarai, Suzuya picked his strap up, just off the floor, and swat across Mutsuki’s ass, nowhere near as hard as he had been hitting him earlier, but hard enough that Mutsuki yelped pathetically through his mouthful of cock. His body went tense and his back went completely straight, butt clenching like he was trying to hold himself in alignment to do a pushup. At some part of that, Nakarai grit his teeth and hissed.

“He didn’t bite, did he?” Suzuya asked, playfully flicking the strap back and forth and listening to Mutsuki whimper. “Being the odd man out sucks, but he might need to be punished a little worse than that, if he’s already bitten his Deputy Squad Leader.” A sinister smile played onto his face, coming up with ideas.

“I didn’t, sirs! I didn’t!” Mutsuki pulled all the way off Nakarai and exclaimed. Whether he was panicking to him or to Nakarai, Suzuya hadn’t the foggiest clue. “I swear! I would never--!”

“No one asked you, Transfer,” said Suzuya. “And no one said you could take your mouth off his dick.” That reminder, and a slightly harder  _ smack!  _ across his ass, got Mutsuki back to the one thing he  _ was  _ told to do.

“He didn’t bite,” said Nakarai. as soon as the voice interrupting him was silenced. “You’re not getting out of this, that easily,” he then looked down and told Mutsuki. He smacked Mutsuki’s cheek a few times, lightly but with enough strength behind it to make him recoil and whimper again. “Although…” He looked back at Suzuya. “You should keep hitting him. It feels great when he whines.” Suzuya laughed and obliged. 

He knew it wouldn’t make as much of a difference to Mikage’s strap-on, when Nakarai gave Mikage a turn, but Mutsuki sounded so cute in pain and his ass slowly turned such a sore shade of red. Suzuya didn’t relent as his mouth was passed around. His only inkling of it was from the outside looking in, but knowing Mutsuki, it appeared to be a slow-burning pain, by the tiny, mewling cries that gradually rose to sobbing through Mikage’s toy. Suzuya didn’t have to hit him any harder for the marks to accumulate and his sobbing to turn almost into screaming with each strike by the time Mikage was done with him. 

Between Mikage and Tamaki, Mutsuki dropped from kneeling tall to his hands and knees, diligently holding his ass out despite him crying at the floor in agony. Perhaps the reason Tamaki decided to change things up was that he didn’t trust him not to bite down on anything in his mouth. Rather than tell Suzuya to stop whipping him, though, he took Mikage’s place in front of him and ordered Mutsuki to use his hands. 

Mutsuki complied, wrapping one hand around Tamaki’s dick while the other fought with all its might to keep him upright while Suzuya’s swatting migrated from his ass to his thighs. Nothing in his mouth to stifle it, every cry and moan of agony echoed freely through the lecture hall, quieted only by Mutsuki’s feeble attempts to bite his lip.

The erratic, constantly pausing rhythm of his hand didn’t please Tamaki one bit. As much as Suzuya didn’t want to humor it, the solution was simple. If he just stopped swatting at him, Mutsuki wouldn’t stutter and stop with Tamaki every time a strike landed. That said, Suzuya didn’t want to stop. He would consider it, if Tamaki asked him to, but even then, he only promised that he would consider it. 

Rather than ask him to stop, though, Tamaki took his frustration out on Mutsuki. Hardly a minute into Mutsuki’s harrowing effort to jerk him off, Tamaki pulled out of his gentle grip and pushed him away with the sole of his boot, sending him backward onto the floor.

“Not making a great impression, Transfer,” he said. Before Mutsuki could stammer through his apology, Tamaki chuckled. “You’ll have to make it up to me later.” 

For now, Suzuya set his strap on the lecturer’s desk and knelt down behind Mutsuki, to manhandle him, half-sitting half-laying, into his lap. The first thing he did was take a dog collar, not even the kind he used when it was just him and Mutsuki, but a woven nylon collar from the nearest pet store, just to drive the point home that a green little transfer wasn’t worth leather, from his coat pocket and fasten it around his neck. After all, he was their bitch until he proved himself suited for anything else. Suzuya figured he ought to look the part.

Nakarai contributed to his ensemble with a baby pacifier, crouching down in front of Mutsuki and pinching his nose until he had to open his mouth, then slipping it between his lips. He threatened to punish him if he spit it out. It was Mikage who picked up a black marker from the desk, but he handed it to Tamaki, to write something. ‘NEW MEAT,’ Tamaki emblazoned in big, bold letters across Mutsuki’s chest, just under his clavicle.

He then closed the marker and traded it for a nitrile glove. “Since, I guess, we were all newbies once,” he told Mutsuki as he lubed up his fingers. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” He reached underhand and teased Mutsuki’s dick erect before taking it firmly in his fingers, moving up and down its tiny length as if jerking him off.

Mutsuki kept quiet for mere minutes, before whimpering through his pacifier. “Feels good when you’re in  _ competent _ hands,” said Tamaki. “Doesn’t it?” Mutsuki squeaked and nodded vehemently. Another stroke, and his entire body tensed, his back rounding and pressing up against Suzuya. “Aww, close already?” Another nod, and another abject mewl. “I bet you’re cute when you cum.” Not a good idea, to let him. “Sorry.” Whether Tamaki was saying it to the group or to Mutsuki, Suzuya had no idea. Mutsuki squirmed and whined when, with no more warning than that, Tamaki took his fingers away.

Before Mutsuki could put his defenses back up, though, Tamaki pushed a finger into his pussy. Nakarai and Mikage each held one of Mutsuki’s legs to keep them spread. Suzuya wrapped one arm around Mutsuki’s torso and held Mutsuki’s chin in a vise grip with the other hand, to hold him still and force him to look Tamaki in the eye while he fingered him. And to look at Nakarai, then Mikage, as the underlings changed places and each took a turn. 

Mutsuki writhed and moaned as three sets of fingers relentlessly changed off smacking him, squeezing him, filling his pussy, poking at his ass, rubbing his dick. Suzuya took some of his tactile cravings out on his neck and shoulder, kissing and biting wherever he could reach without freeing him. Mikage found his crop again and used it to slap Mutsuki’s thighs, his stomach, his pussy when he could get a strike in without catching one of his teammates’ hands instead. Tamaki was the first to sink an entire finger into Mutsuki’s ass, warming up to two, then working a butt plug into him while Nakarai was occupied with three fingers in his pussy.

Nakarai, then, grabbed Mutsuki by his legs and pulled him into his lap. At that point, Suzuya let Mutsuki go, leaving Nakarai and the squad to hold him still while Nakarai guided his dick to Mutsuki’s open hole. “Look how damn pathetic you are,” said Nakarai, glaring at a red-all-over, teary-eyed Mutsuki. “If we can wreck you this  _ easy…”  _ He pushed into him and Mutsuki made a soft, stifled moan. “You don’t stand a chance against the kinds of ghouls we see in Shibuya.”

Hands newly freed, Suzuya picked his strap back up and adjusted himself so Mutsuki’s head remained propped up on his lap, but he had room to idly slap Mutsuki’s chest and stomach. With only Nakarai’s dick to contend with for a minute, Mutsuki had calmed down, but it didn’t take long for the waterworks to start up again. The pacifier silenced a lot, but the twisting and squirming, and the tears streaming down Mutsuki’s face within a few solid  _ smacks!  _ were undeniable. 

Nakarai got deep into it, unflinching with his cruel words and short thrusts, but he didn’t want to spend himself so early in the ritual, and the rest of the squad didn’t last long before they got poking and pinching, impatiently waiting their turns. So, when he felt like he might be getting close, he pulled out and let Mikage take his place. Mikage didn’t have to worry about finishing too soon, but once he had gotten a fair turn, Tamaki whispered something in his ear and he seemed to have no issue trading places with him.

Rather than push into Mutsuki’s pussy, Tamaki reached a hand down and tugged at the plug in Mutsuki’s ass and Mutsuki yelped the second it moved. Slowly, he pulled it out to the thickest part just to push it back in. Once he had his fun fucking Mutsuki with the plug, he took it all the way out and turned Mutsuki over onto all fours. Suzuya scooched back on his knees and just watched Tamaki tease Mutsuki’s ass with the tip of his dick. Nakarai passed him the abandoned bottle so he could give Mutsuki another squeeze of lube. 

“Get me off and I’ll forgive that sorry excuse for a handjob, earlier,” he told Mutsuki before putting the bottle down and easing in. No blood, no tears, but Mutsuki shrieked as Tamaki bottomed out, fucking his dripping ass in quick, relentless strokes. “Mm… Seems like we found something even you can’t fuck up, Transfer.” Mutsuki moaned something in reply with the same inflection as ‘thank you, sir’ and squeezed two fistfuls of the thin layer of blankets on the floor.  _ “Haah…  _ That’s it…” was the last thing Tamaki said to him that wasn’t a noise before he came with a drawn-out groan. “Good boy,” he then muttered. He gave Mutsuki a solid  _ smack!  _ across the ass before moving over and giving Suzuya a turn.

“Off the floor, Rank One,” Suzuya ordered as he grabbed a handful of Mutsuki’s hair to hold him up while he scrambled to his feet. He bent Mutsuki over the lecturer’s desk and took his strap-on out of his pants. “Nakarai, you’re my second-in-command! You get in here too!” he then looked over his shoulder and chirped. And the squad thought he never shared. Nakarai complied and helped manhandle Mutsuki into position, to where he was sandwiched between them, straddling Suzuya and kneeling in front of Nakarai, on the desk. 

“Who knew you were such a slut, Mucchan?” said Suzuya, teasing Mutsuki’s pussy with gloved fingers. “I think you like being passed around.” So feverish and red all over. Impact prints healed fast on a quinx. That rosy tint from his face to his thighs was all him. “I’ll have to keep that in mind when I’m handing out cases.”

As soon as he had Mutsuki squirming and whimpering, Suzuya took his hand away and repositioned his strap-on to push into him. Mutsuki winced as Suzuya started to move his hips, a little bit. “Aww, is someone getting sore?” said Suzuya. Mutsuki whimpered again and nodded. “Too much to join my squad?” Mutsuki vehemently shook his head. Very brave, given he had no idea when they would be done with him. Suzuya could admire bravery. 

Mutsuki’s brave face wavered, though, as Nakarai came up closer and lubed up his ass. For a moment, Suzuya tried to remember if he had ever done anything like this to Mutsuki before. He had no recollection, but the way he wriggled and twisted on contact with the tip of Nakarai’s dick, how he whined when Nakarai pushed in… he wasn’t used to it. Nakarai started fucking him and he hid his face in Suzuya’s shoulder, mewling into his coat with every hard, punishing thrust. 

Suzuya, on the other hand, moved slowly, lazily, with his strap-on. He paid no heed to whose hands were whose, but the rest of the squad couldn’t keep them to themselves, caressing Mutsuki’s body, slapping his cheeks, pinching his dick, whatever they wanted to do to him. Mutsuki sounded about to cry, by the time Nakarai dug his nails into his sides and came. 

Mutsuki was shaking and panting when he collapsed into Suzuya’s chest. He was such a pathetic sight to behold, red and sore and curled up against Suzuya like a little bat pup. The squad gave him a minute to catch his breath in peace, all taking off their used barriers and migrating to the blanket palette to wait until he got up off the desk, himself. Suzuya followed him when he did get up and they both joined the circle on the floor. 

His collar and the writing on his chest stayed, but the squad let him spit out the pacifier so he could protest when his squadmates jokingly suggested adding a tattoo ‘or something’ to their play initiation rite, and lament how bad a limp he would walk into the field office with tomorrow. Everyone but Suzuya got all sheepish and apologetic at that. Suzuya, however, knew him better. He laughed at him and smacked the top of his thigh hard enough to leave a handprint. The five of them casually talked about how fun the scene was and taunted each other over a thermos of hot chocolate Suzuya had brought until they all felt ready to go home for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally wrote nine pages of this shit just for that "i'll have to keep that in mind for cases" line


	19. The Color of Blood (Scars, Shibari)

Suzuya brought the head of his rope over and under the strands, pulling it just a little tighter before passing head over tail and threading it through the resulting gap to finish off a one-column tie around Mutsuki’s crossed lower legs. He wrapped it around each of Mutsuki’s thighs, snug and unforgiving, and fixed it to the single column between them before crossing it over Mutsuki’s shoulder. Mutsuki winced every time he put tension on the rough hemp rope. 

Whether he wanted to obey or not, his body pushed back against Suzuya’s knee with all its might as Suzuya forced his chest down, closer to touching his feet than he ever got them when he stretched after a training session. 

“How’s that feel?” he asked, halfway in a calming trance as he fixed his rope to the box tie he had already bound Mutsuki in a few minutes ago and hooked it around the single column. 

“It hurts,” Mutsuki whimpered. Suzuya hitched the rope into place and wound the excess around the very middle of what was now an inescapable shrimp tie. “It hurts like my legs are being ripped out of their sockets.” Mutsuki’s voice did the most adorable, sad little crack. And Suzuya couldn’t help a smile at his graphic description. 

“Then I guess you’ll have to be a good boy and hold still, or else I’ll never be done with you,” he said. He had the strict tie to help him, so Mutsuki couldn’t move too much if he wanted to, but he had enough slack to squirm. Surely, though, he could handle that small responsibility.

Suzuya took his time, getting up to grab his body-stitching kit and bringing it closer to the two of them. He unzipped main compartment as slowly as he could, almost luxurious in how he made it last. A box of piercing needles, a pair of scissors, and several spools of colored thread, he took out one by one, deliberately making a place for everything and everything in its place on the drop cloth underneath them and lining them all up neater than he ever kept anything. He just hoped that neatness didn’t end up throwing him off.

One spool of thread matched the rich blood red of the dyed rope. That one, Suzuya decided, went in the middle of his pattern, and so he placed it in the middle of the array he made of the colors. The first that he picked up in his gloved hands and brought with him to Mutsuki’s shoulder was an almost white shade of pink. 

Mutsuki tensed at the sound of Suzuya tearing open a packet and unsheathing a thick needle. At its poke, he made a high-pitched whine that rose to a small scream when Suzuya worked it into the tough, raised skin of one of his scars. Suzuya pushed the needle all the way through and threaded the light pink into the wound. He kept sewing with his piercing needle until Mutsuki had a few little fern stitches down the length of the scar. Then, he switched to a normal pink, a light red, then that fresh blood red. He finished the chain of stitches with a darker red, darker, darker, until he got to his thread that was nearly black.

“So pretty...” he cooed at Mutsuki, whose face was streaked with tears and whose entire body was trembling, after having one scar done. He ran his fingers over the line of embroidery and Mutsuki moaned softly. 

Suzuya stitched over the biggest, most noticeable scars that weren’t covered by rope in the same gradated fern stitch pattern. Mutsuki never talked about them and he never felt the need to ask. He knew scars well enough to answer any curious question that popped into his head, himself. They weren’t like Mutsuki’s top surgery scars, those ones sunken and stretched like those all over Suzuya himself. The back ones were hypertrophic and jagged, like splotches of raised skin just smacked onto him like an angry abstract painting. Rather than a paintbrush, though, it was probably some kind of lash that made them, thick and sharp enough to slice into skin if one were to hit him with it a certain way. He couldn’t deduce more than that, but it felt good to punch a needle through them and cover them with thread.

When he finished the last one that stood out to him most, Mutsuki was a bawling mess, shaking and heaving against his bonds even as he choked out apologies for every little move and promised to hold still, glistening with sweat from head to toe. Since the stitches he really wanted to sew were done by then, Suzuya went ahead and untied him. Already healed by the time he was done with the rope, the stitches didn’t need to be removed right away. They went well with the reddened marks snaking around Mutsuki’s sweat-drenched arms, legs, and torso, while said marks lasted. They disappeared as fast as Suzuya peeled the rope from Mutsuki, completely gone before he even put his supplies away. At least the fern stitches would be there to admire and touch for as long as Suzuya wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha i bet u thought i forgot this challenge. nope i just abandoned it for a long time bc i wanted to write other things, but i'm doing my badger thing and never letting go
> 
> ngl i'm hoping to rewrite a lot of these bc when u are doing a daily writing challenge where you're cranking out prompts, you're kinda always posting a first draft and i think there's some potential w some of these to be p good if i allowed myself the time to think through all the fine details and relish the gratuitous mutsuki bullying. but first, i just wanna finish this challenge before the next october lmao


	20. How to Win a Splash Fight (Shower/Bath)

Mutsuki splashed him first. Suzuya splashed back a little harder. Mutsuki splashed him again. Suzuya threw a wet washcloth and laughed when it hit Mutsuki square in the chest with a disturbingly crisp  _ splat!  _ But Mutsuki kept splashing, and Suzuya would not go down without pulling out every trick up his sleeves. He grabbed the showerhead, having set it within his reach with the intention to cold-rinse his hair before he got out of the bath, turned the faucet on, and sprayed Mutsuki with a blast of ice cold water. It wasn’t enough to make Mutsuki concede what had become a full scale splash fight, so he played with the temperature and water pattern until he found something forceful and sprayed him in the dick. 

On contact with the water, Mutsuki gasped and scrambled back into the wall of the tub, sloshing water around but not splashing any over the edge. His hands went protectively between his thighs and he took a moment to seethe in pain, stimulation, or both before he composed himself enough to speak. “That hurt!” he exclaimed. Not ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ but ‘it hurt.’ “You know it’s still--  _ haah!” _

Suzuya sprayed him again while his hands were away from his pussy. Mutsuki cringed and made a small, ambiguous moan. More rooted in arousal or suffering, Suzuya had no idea, but it would be awfully fun to test.

He turned the faucet back off and set the showerhead back down, then manhandled Mutsuki into position, turning him around and guiding him to kneel with his forearms on Suzuya’s shower bench as if praying before bed. 

“Okay, Juuzou,” Mutsuki said with a nervous laugh as Suzuya picked the showerhead back up. “You beat me.” His voice shook, a little. Suzuya ignored him and turned the faucet back on, the water still coming out in a forceful jet. “Juuzou! You beat me, okay?! You--!”

“Ha! I beat you at least two rounds ago,” said Suzuya. “Now hold still.” He came up closer and wrapped both arms around Mutsuki. “You don’t wanna know what happens if you move from that spot,” he said, grinning, against Mutsuki’s ear. Meaning he had no idea what he was going to do, but he would figure it out, and an improvising Suzuya could be meaner than one sticking to a plan. Despite that, Mutsuki whined and squirmed in his hold when he tilted the showerhead to his dick and held it there. 


	21. Scent Work (Boot Worship, Olfactophilia)

Suzuya really wished he could watch this game. True, he could peek from around a corner just to see what the last _crash! _was, but he had spent all day puppy-proofing the house without any help from Hanbee, and he had put so much care into blindfolding his pet and binding his hands and feet in bandage wrap twenty minutes or so ago. He didn’t want to make all that time and effort for nothing. So, he contented himself to grin and fight not to laugh, listening to every thumping sound and startled yelp of Mutsuki crawling into something just around the corner from his place in the living room. 

When Mutsuki finally got around that dreaded corner, he clambered around the living room as if doing so on eggshells. Poor thing had scared himself so many times with no eyes, limited touch, and the entire house to search through. By now, every step of his hands and knees had him afraid to take another. 

As he came closer to Suzuya, he acted more like a cadaver dog than a Rank One investigator. All the nerves and shame that kept him from lowering his face to the floor and sniffing as he crawled at the start of the game were gone. Once he caught whatever was so distinctly ‘Suzuya’ that he scampered towards him as if he had a clue where he was going, he forgot to be his timid self for a minute and came right up to him, deeply breathing him in as he nuzzled his left leg and gave him his best, most puppyish whine through the muzzle over his mouth.

“You found me!” Suzuya said with a laugh. He got down on one knee and playfully tousled Mutsuki’s hair. “I knew Qs could smell, but who would have thought you  _ really  _ had the nose of a bloodhound?” He lowered his hand and moved the other to unfasten the muzzle and pull it off Mutsuki’s face. “Ha! You’re even starting to drool like one!” That gave him an idea. He tossed the muzzle aside and stepped his foot forward. “Find my shoe.” Mutsuki got down on all fours and complied, bowing his head down to where he almost touched the toe box of Suzuya’s heavy combat boot. “Give it a kiss.” Mutsuki complied with a timid little peck. “You can do better.” 

Mutsuki yelped as Suzuya grabbed a handful of his hair and pushed his face into the toe box. “I don’t really give a shit how you do it, but you put that slobbery mouth of yours to use and don’t leave a single dry spot.” In other words, he wanted to see it worshipped like it was the difference between the fear and pain of crawling into furniture and the comfort of reuniting with his handler.

Suzuya released Mutsuki’s hair and Mutsuki did as he was told. He planted a string of progressively wetter open-mouthed kisses up the heavy-duty leather until he picked a print to leave and stuck to it, tracing every seam with his lips and cute little tongue. Long, wide licks across the quarter and blucher were followed by slow, drooly clusters of kisses until both sides were saturated. There was no way to know for sure, if he got every last centimeter, but Suzuya let his bloodhound keep doing his best, for as long as it might take for him to think his best might be good enough. 


	22. Nobody Likes a Clown at Midnight (Roleplay, Smiles/Laughter, Toys)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read this one if u wanna hear jude juuheizou compare sex to clown cars and probably not in the way u might expect

Bathroom lights shined down on him and he pretended to be in a dressing room mirror, nimble hands painting thick black cream shadow around his primed eyes. Waterproof mascara made his eyes pop, almost a little ghoulish on a face that had big eyes without makeup. More black, he then lined and colored in his lips with, giving each corner of his mouth a slight flick, barely there but lending a mildly unsettling exaggeration to his natural grin. His final touch, a fingerpainted black dot on the tip of his nose. 

Suzuya thanked his recessive genes that he didn’t have to pancake his face with greasepaint for a ghostly white foundation. All he had to do were his eyes, lips and nose, and he was a creepy-cute clown. Dark but sparkly accents of red went over the black and he grabbed a small bottle of setting spray. 

An excited flutter rose in his chest when his makeup was done, posing in his asymmetrical harlequin clown suit and making faces in the mirror. He could have jumped up and down with glee. This was exactly who he wanted to be. He was fully in character when he left the bathroom and skipped down the hall to his and Mutsuki’s bedroom, humming an upbeat tune. 

“Is this the birthday boy?” he chirped in his higher register, grinning at a wide-eyed Mutsuki who lay tied with red and black ribbons to their bed in a classic ‘x,’ a harlequin-printed handkerchief in his mouth. He still wore the fashionable striped sweater and denim overalls he wore to dinner and birthday cake with the squad earlier that evening. 

Suzuya vaulted as acrobatically as he could without full-on tumbling onto the bed and moved like a flexible spider to straddle Mutsuki’s waist. “Hope you didn’t fill up too much on cake and ice cream!” he said. Cheerful and lively as he always was, he turned it up to the max, cackling in glee for a moment before smiling down at Mutsuki, a hand pinching one of his cheeks hard enough to make him whine. “Don’t you know, the party’s not over ‘til Juuzou says it’s over.” And right now, he said there was a lot of celebrating left to do. 

He released Mutsuki’s cheek and licked the red mark he left on it, open-mouthed and messy enough to make Mutsuki squeeze his eyes shut and cringe back, a little. He then sat up and got to work, unfastening each side of Mutsuki’s overalls. They didn’t pull very far down, with Mutsuki’s legs tied apart, so he then drew a knife from one of the many hidden pockets in his clown suit and used the existing seams as a guide to cut him out of them. Mutsuki’s underwear got the knife without any attempt to pull them down. 

With Mutsuki stripped down to nothing but his sweater and completely at his mercy, Suzuya hopped off the bed to grab something he buried in his part of their bedroom closet, under the endless black void of his t-shirts that no amount of torturous suspense could ever drive Mutsuki to look through, even if he did find himself tempted to rummage for hints as to what he might get for his birthday. It was once an empty shoebox, what he unearthed from the bottom of the drawer and brought back to bed. Given the special occasion it was for, he took the time to paint it with bold patterns and circus motifs to where it looked like it could be an oblong jack-in-the-box. He set it down on the mattress next to Mutsuki. Mutsuki had to pick up his head and look for it, but it sat in his line of sight while Suzuya straddled one of his legs.

Mutsuki followed his every move with his eyes, murmuring something with the vague inflection of a question, as Suzuya took the top off the box and perused the contents with a devilish grin. After relishing the contemplation for as long as it took him to choose, the first thing he took from the box was a white wand vibrator with a perfectly round, red ball at the end, the size and shape of a lollipop. Suzuya had defaced and disposed of the packaging when he added it to his ‘birthday’ kit, but that was exactly what it was meant to imitate. He saw it and saw his scene coming together too well not to get it.

One click of the button on the bottom of the handle turned it onto the gentlest setting. They had all night, and it wasn’t like Mutsuki was going anywhere, so Suzuya saw no reason not to start small. He brought the lollipop up to Mutsuki’s neck, trailing from behind his ear, along his jawline, down to his shoulder and from there, the middle of his clavicle. Mutsuki tensed, a tiny sound almost but not completely muffled by the handkerchief. He bit down on it a little bit and shut his eyes, the second time Suzuya tried it there, more of a whine in his silenced voice. 

“You like this one?” said Suzuya. He circled about where one of Mutsuki’s scars would be through his sweater. Mutsuki whined and nodded, so tense he looked like his head would pop right off his neck in doing so. Suzuya couldn’t help but giggle, shuffling up closer and hitching Mutsuki’s sweater up to expose his entire torso. 

He started just below the thick patch of hair under Mutsuki’s arm, drawing painfully light lines and shapes over his serratus muscles and towards his ribcage. He moved downward and inward, then. Mutsuki’s obliques turned out to be as sensitive to the vibration as they were to Suzuya’s hands and lips, making him arch and twist each time he brought the lollipop down his side and traced his hipbone. His lightly toned stomach, too, coaxed out the cutest stifled mewls and pathetic attempts to struggle. Suzuya saved the trail of dark fuzz down his midline for last, taking his sweet time to relish the sounds and sights it made. 

“I changed my mind,” he then took the lollipop off Mutsuki and said. “I think I wanna hear you, now.” He removed the handkerchief from Mutsuki’s mouth and set it aside. Then, he traded the lollipop for a thick insertable toy, light blue with stripes like those on a candy cane, from the box and put a condom over it. “Let’s see what you think of my next act!”

Like the lollipop, he left the stick on its lowest speed as he made light, teasing circles around Mutsuki’s pussy and all over his thighs. Mutsuki’s soft sighs and gasps made a delightful contrasting noise to the low hum of the motor. Once he had a little bit there to wet it with, he wet the tip with Mutsuki’s arousal, dragging it everywhere around his hole except inside him. Mutsuki wriggled his legs and twisted his hips, struggling more the closer the vibration came to his dick. Suzuya couldn’t help but laugh at the sharp cry he made when, after faking him out and faking him out until he stopped recoiling so hard, he gave it a firm poke. 

Suzuya found the mercy in his heart to hold off on torturing Mutsuki’s dick any more than that. Instead, he took the stick vibrator away and set it aside while he took a bottle of lube from the box. He snapped open the bottle and gave Mutsuki a squeeze of it, then teased him a little more with the vibrator to wet it before easing it into him.

He fucked Mutsuki in long, full strokes at a slow but even pace. Like so many great circus acts, what began as something unremarkable quickly had its audience on the edge of their seat simply by virtue of not stopping and letting it build on its own, the same way clowns just kept filing into a gutted car until eyes grew wide and, surely, there was no way for so many to fit in such a little car. It was a lot like that, keeping up the same languid rhythm until Mutsuki trembled and whimpered that he was close. 

Suzuya ignored his cries and resumed his act as if the audience wasn’t there. Oh, he relished the sounds Mutsuki made and fed off the tension radiating from his squirmy form. But he didn’t do anything different at the behest of those things. So it was, in part, his own fault that Mutsuki came and squirted all over himself, and all over Suzuya’s sleeve. 

“I’m sorry, Juuzou!” he exclaimed before he so much as stopped gushing. “I’m so, so sorry!” He continued apologizing as Suzuya sat back, crossed his arms, and put on too smiley a pout to look at all convincing. 

“All over my best clown suit!” he said, full of playful indignation. “Well, it  _ is  _ your birthday.” He stripped the candy stick and set it back in the box. “So I won’t punish you too hard, for my third and final act!” But he wasn’t going to spare him. He would not be grinning, if he was going to spare him. 

For a moment, it got quiet between them, save for Mutsuki’s panting. Perhaps it just took a little more time for it to sink in that Suzuya wasn’t done with him. After that moment passed and Suzuya was still digging around the painted box, though, Mutsuki whined and shook his head, murmuring increasingly frantic ‘no mores’ and ‘too muches’ while Suzuya searched for his last birthday surprise.

“No more! No more!” Suzuya repeated back to Mutsuki in a childish, mocking babble before breaking into another laughing fit. “I told you,” he then said, lazily teasing Mutsuki’s sensitive spots with a textured vibrator, light pink and swirled along the shaft like coneless soft-serve, complete with a nubbed tip at the end. His smile turned devilish, watching Mutsuki shiver and squirm. “The party isn’t over ‘til I say it’s over.” Mutsuki twisted his torso and pulled at his bonds as, ever so slowly, he trailed the humming toy closer and closer to his hypersensitive little dick. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not at all important but i imagine suzuya's evil clown laugh to be kinda like baby's from 'house of 1000 corpses'


	23. Incompetence (Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Degradation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ppl looking for the one single suzuya/haise piece in here: this is the one. and it's named after a song bc i couldn't fRICKING think of anything else.

Haise audibly strained against a sigh. Though the effort not to openly squirm had him breaking a sweat, the tension he put on the two-column ties binding him backwards to a kitchen chair could have broken them, if not for the RC inhibitor his playmate had stuck through his kakugan before wrapping a blindfold around his eyes. Once reduced to the terribly average thing he was without his kakuhou, there wasn’t a lot he could do. The creature that could have made chains crumble barely had the strength to struggle against jute rope. Suzuya might have done that on purpose, seeing as he was restraining him, caging his dick, and fingering his ass open for an audience. 

Mutsuki, he gave an indifferent kind of permission to do whatever he wanted, provided he kept his hands to himself and stayed in his spot, sitting on Haise’s bed and admiring the masterpiece Suzuya made of him. He didn’t have a hand in his pants yet, but in the corner of Suzuya’s eye, he was as squirmy as Haise and either not trying or not able to put on the same strong, semi-dignified facade in front of his mentor that his mentor fought tooth and nail to maintain in front of him. Suzuya saw his watching eyes as a good reason to really put some artistry in Haise’s suffering. 

“Putting on a brave face for Tooru, huh?” he said, poking around with his fingers until he found something that made Haise tense and pull again at his bonds. “That’s no fun.” But making the bravery shatter sure was fun. Haise didn’t need to know that, though. All he needed was to steep a little in suspense as Suzuya pulled out, peeled off his exam glove, and took his time rummaging through his suitcase of tricks. 

The first thing he took from the case was a small drinking glass that he set on the floor under Haise’s dick. He then picked out a segmented dildo, rolled a condom over it, and unzipped his slacks to feed it into the harness he wore under them. The same bottle of lube he used for his fingers still sat on the closest corner to the chair of Haise’s bed, and he gave his strap-on a coat of it before coming back up behind Haise. 

“What’s the matter, tough guy?” Having sat so still, regardless of the effort he put into doing so, what finally made him recoil was the first segment of Suzuya’s toy poking at his ass. Where he should have been proud of himself for choosing something so right, Suzuya found himself more ticked off even than proud. “Hold still,” he grabbed a handful of Haise’s hair by which to force his head back close enough and murmur menacingly in his ear. He held him there, close enough to hear every stifled whimper, every moan through clenched teeth, until he had pushed a few segments into him and pulled him further back as he started to thrust.

_ “Haah!”  _ Haise cracked into a quiet but open-mouthed whine. Suzuya fucked him in long, slow strokes, delicately playing with angles and tweaking positions until he found what made Haise bite back a moan and writhe in his seat like an overgrown worm. Once he figured it out, Suzuya gave it a few more tries until he had it committed enough to muscle memory that he didn’t miss. Haise cried out loud and clenched his hands around nothing as Suzuya got into a merciless rhythm with his hips. 

Gradually, Haise’s measured breath devolved into panting. The faces he went through, brows knit tight and mouth fallen open, tempted Suzuya to let his hair go so that Mutsuki could see them too, so he could see what the investigator he so admired looked like when he had all the decorum and humanoid dignity fucked out of him. He acted on temptation and the sticky, disheveled state of Haise’s hair completed the image even better than he could have hoped alongside his sweaty, reddened skin. 

It was when Suzuya got a fresh grip on his hair and wrenched him back as far as he would go that he all but screamed through a heavy exhale. His entire body trembled, trapped in an unnatural arch that put that much more strain on his fatigued muscles. That was what he got for thinking he would come out of this resembling the Rank One Sasaki known by his mentee, if he just tensed up enough.

A pathetic moan and something wet touching his slippers tipped Suzuya off in time for him to watch the sad, passive spill of cum falling just a little more on his left foot than into the cup. Despite the looming need to wash his slippers when he got home, Suzuya couldn’t help but grin. 

“Hee-hee-hee!” he giggled in sadistic glee. “What a mess you made, Haise.” All over his slipper, the floor, a tiny bit on the edge of the cup. “And in front of your underling, too.” The only one among those underlings with a shred of respect for their beloved teacher. “How disgusting.” Who could respect the wriggling slug before him as a human being, let alone look to it for guidance and respect it as a mentor? 

Haise made a feeble, agonized mewl as Suzuya began to move again. “Try to make it in the cup, this time,” said Suzuya, grinning. “I don’t think you want Mucchan to see you after too many tries.” And it would not be over until he filled it up. “And I  _ really  _ don’t think you want me to make it a bucket, if you keep missing.” Suzuya wondered if an intact cock and balls  _ could  _ fill a bucket. Seeing how Haise had unraveled over a few spoonfuls, he couldn’t help but contemplate what that much might reduce him to, or if he would pass out from exhaustion before coming close. One way to find out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t ask what the fantasy is that Suzuya’s gonna use all that cum for. did you need to know what tokage and/or yamori needed all those fingers and toes for?? that’s what i thought. 
> 
> translation: i don’t know but my idea of degrading is reducing the degradee to something u could get just as easily from something non-human. one’s own pleasure (a v common one) isn’t really gonna apply to my little-to-no-touch suzuya so i needed to think of something else


	24. He Likes it Raw (Vore)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one u just can't do tokyo ghoul without!! i have no idea if i got the appeal of this one right or anything, but i definitely used the prompt as a license to embrace my not-necessarily-sexual sadistic side and get as gory and nasty as i wanted, so if u don't wanna know in gruesome detail what mutsuki tooru's internal organs taste like, just skip this one.
> 
> seriously though, content warning for hard vore and all the blood and guts that come w that.

Ghoul violence never slept in Shibuya. Evidently, it never took a fucking snack break either. Or the violence was the snack break. However it worked, Suzuya was super late to what was supposed to be dinner with Mutsuki, thanks to a spree killer that just had to pick tonight to terrorize Takeshita Street. He grabbed Mutsuki a box of fancy green tea macarons from a nearby shop after apprehending the predator, to make it up to him, but he was disappointed to be in the passenger’s seat of Abara’s van, finally on his way home, after dark. 

When he stepped into his apartment, though, the whole place smelled like food. Mutsuki stood at the sink, washing a pan that looked like the last of a few dishes. Two steaming bowls sat on the kitchenette counter. Part of Suzuya wished he had gotten to cook with him, but the part of him that was running low on spoons from his hectic day welcomed the idea of food waiting on the table. 

Mutsuki had made him dinner. He showed up to hang out with him so late he had been expecting him to be asleep on his couch and didn’t get the chance to text or call to let him know what was up until he was almost home, but instead of being upset with him like everyone inevitably got when they realized he couldn’t just turn off his struggle to be punctual, he made him dinner. According to Mutsuki, he figured he had gotten tied up at the field office and decided to cook a hearty gyudon out of what he had in his fridge, in case he came home hungry. It had been a long time since someone who wasn’t his caregiver did something so sweet for him. Suzuya couldn’t stop smiling as they brought their bowls to the coffee table to eat.

If Mutsuki was a saint for making him something at all, he was an angel for the fact that Suzuya’s bowl was more tartare with rice than gyudon. Suzuya knew how squeamish Mutsuki was about rare meat. Although Suzuya had, in an attempt to make him feel better once, assured him that carcasses were bled at slaughter and the almost-as-delectable juiciness wasn’t blood, even sashimi grossed him out. Mutsuki probably would have rather crawled through a fire than fixed a bowl of almost-raw meat strips, but he knew Suzuya liked it red and oozing, so he braved his phobia for Suzuya’s taste in food. 

Suzuya had no idea if it was the barely cooked red meat, tougher and stringier, a little gamier, but close enough, or how very, very sweet Mutsuki was to him, but his thoughts wandered, while they ate their late meal on the couch. As a child, he lived on the parts that were left after Mama and her friends took prime cuts. There was no concept of cannibalism, as a human in the home of a ghoul. He was hardly even given the idea that he was human, just that he wasn’t enough like Mama and her friends to eat at the table, for some reason that wasn’t ever talked about. Eating people was a normal part of his life until he became a ward of the CCG. He knew better now, but it was still okay to  _ contemplate _ what someone would taste like. Even a little more than just what they tasted like. 

_ Mutsuki would make the most adorable little yelp, as Suzuya gave him a push backward and pinned him to the couch. Suzuya would revel in the mint and chapstick that flavored his lips, to start with, just kissing him like normal, helping him relax. If he felt confident he wouldn’t scare him away, he might forget his patience and nip him just enough to draw blood, warm and rich as it spread over his tongue, and help himself to a taste.  _

_ He worked his way, slow and savoring, down from Mutsuki’s mouth to his neck, his clavicle, his chest. Mutsuki’s supple skin felt so good against his lips, better between his teeth, easily bruised and ever so delicately holding up against his rougher kisses. He pushed Mutsuki’s shirt up and off, and as he peppered his ribcage with lovebites, his free hand wandered up to rest on his belly. Even physically, he was the softest, sweetest thing Suzuya knew. Once his hand was there, he couldn’t hold back for more than a few kisses on his stomach before sinking his teeth in, breaking through skin and tissue until his incisors came together. He took another big, deep bite and started digging his fingers into the wounds, pushing them apart like retractors to help tear open Mutsuki’s abdomen while he used his mouth to rip through flesh and make it easier to pull him apart. _

_ As soon as he could fit it into the cavity, he dug in face-first, taking shredding bites of sweet, tender abdominal muscle and melt-in-his-mouth fat. Blood started pooling and he explored deeper, lapping it up and sampling viscera with his tongue. Thick, metallic intoxication enveloped him like a warm bath until, on the verge of drowning himself, he picked his head up, mouth and teeth dyed red, a blissful, blood-drunk grin across his face.  _

_ “You taste so good, Tooru. Let me try some more?” Mutsuki didn’t stop him, so he licked his lips and sank back into the warmth of his eviscerated belly. His hands and mouth ventured around his guts until he settled on one to taste first. Liver was a hard meat to go wrong with. He plunged in and tore two handfuls of Mutsuki’s right out, unceremoniously squishing it to visceral jam before licking and slurping it out of his own hands. The bloody, mineral flavor and jellylike feel in his mouth hit just right. He couldn’t restrain himself from ripping a big piece from under Mutsuki’s ribs and relishing the sensation of using his tongue to crush small bites of it against his hard palate. _

_ When he couldn’t take any more and still be sure it would regenerate fast enough, he moved onto his pancreas. Sweetbreads, Mama called it. They had always been his favorite part, and picking a fingerful out of Mutsuki’s guts instantly reminded him why. Human sweetbreads were almost more of a dessert than a meal, mild and, as their nickname suggested, oh so sweet. He sighed in delight as he took more of it, kneading and smearing the creamy semisolid in his fingers before he ate each piece.  _

_ He could hear Mutsuki try not to whimper, but that was the only sound that came from his mouth. His breath came strained and tremulous, his eyes teary, hair sticking to his face with sweat, but he wasn’t screaming like he screamed when Suzuya put his hands in his guts.  _

_ “Shh.” He kissed Mutsuki’s cheek, leaving a bloody pair of lips there before he moved onto his mouth, which Mutsuki weakly reciprocated with a pained groan. “Relax, a little.” Mutsuki only managed to whimper in reply. “You’re not gonna die.” And it would be harder to get through a particularly muscular part of him, if he was so tense.  _

_ Suzuya kissed him again, this time taking more than a ‘really deep kiss’ amount of his tongue in his teeth. Mutsuki startled, all but screaming into it when he bit down. Though more delicate than beef tongue, it still had a stringy, muscular bite to it as he incised a piece out of Mutsuki’s mouth. As he took his time chewing it, the rich, fatty flavor had a chance to creep up on him and he ultimately had to tear off some more, to where Mutsuki would regenerate before he bled out, but he didn’t have enough there to talk, for a while.  _

_Mutsuki's hands grabbed and held fast to the couch cushion over his head as_ _ Suzuya migrated to the corner of Mutsuki’s mouth. He tore a hole in the upholstery when Suzuya bit into a piece of his cheek, and the tears started again, escalating more and more as Suzuya’s fingers fought their way into the bitemarks and started to help him tear the whole of his fleshy cheek from his face. Why Mama considered the heads of the Restaurant’s victims trash, he had no idea. Cheeks almost fell apart in one’s mouth, soft to chew and flavorful to taste. Mutsuki’s was devoured in a few bites. _

“I’m glad I didn’t wait to make dinner,” said Mutsuki-- the real Mutsuki who hadn’t moved from his seat on the couch, derailing Suzuya’s thoughts. “When did you last have something to eat?” he asked with knit eyebrows and a small frown. Suzuya shrugged in reply. In all honesty, he didn’t remember the answer.

“Why?” he asked through a mouthful of rice.

“Oh, you’re just really… tearing into that… is all,” Mutsuki stammered. “Sorry. That was a weird thing to point out. I don’t know why I said anything.” 

“It’s okay.” To be fair, he looked down at his bowl for the first time since he sat down with it and shocked himself with how much of it was gone. Demolished. He had almost completely demolished it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was i more kinky or hungry when i wrote this?? you decide.


	25. Pincoochie Mutsuki 2.0 (Double (Or More) Penetration)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did u really expect me to have a double or more penetration prompt and not aggressively pick "more??"

“Good boy…” Suzuya cooed at the sobbing pile of Mutsuki crumpled in front of him on his hands and knees, pinching a sensitive fingerful of skin on one side of Mutsuki’s ass and holding it while he brought another beveled point of a hypodermic needle to what was going to be the entry wound. “Hold still. Don’t make me slip.” Mutsuki whimpered and recoiled away at the lightest poke, but if Suzuya gave him a second, he obeyed. “There you go,” he said. Then, he let their room go quiet for a moment before pushing the needle in. 

Mutsuki took it with a whine that died down as the bevel disappeared into his flesh and rose to a tiny, choking cry when it began to stick out of the exit wound. He got a second to recover while Suzuya took another needle from the box of 100 by his knee. 

“ _ Oh! Oh!  _ This one hurts!” Mutsuki cried through the next one, a lot like he had when Suzuya had him turned over and was using his ribs and belly as a pincushion, at the beginning of this game. By the time he got to his obliques and thighs, Mutsuki’s voice had been reduced more to noises than words, the sorest spots only being marked by a stifled cry and a tight fist hammering the floor. “It really hurts,” though, he squeaked as Suzuya pushed it through the exit wound. 

“You’re almost done.” Only a little shy of the entire box, many short lines of thin needles adding up fast, he was almost done. “Just one more, and we can have even more fun.” Suzuya grinned, picking up another needle from the box. Mutsuki whimpered as Suzuya opened another packet. Though he trembled, he held still in every way he could control, despite having to bite his lip to deaden what sounded like it could be a scream at its peak, through the final needle sinking into his skin. 

Suzuya let him cry it out for a minute while he wove a length of suture, careful to leave a long enough tail to pull, around each needle to make it match the other rows all over Mutsuki’s body. Mutsuki still had some tears and deep breathing left when the suture was finished, so Suzuya took his time prepping the next thing in their toy collection to give him ideas. Only when Mutsuki had calmed down enough to concentrate more on what was done to him in the moment than what had been done so far did Suzuya lay another hand on him. 

At that point, he poured a generous squeeze of lube on Mutsuki and spread it with his fingers. Two slipped easily into Mutsuki’s pussy. Suzuya didn’t spend a lot of time playing with it before moving onto his ass. Once he had Mutsuki, or at least parts of him, relaxed, he picked up the first of his chosen toys. 

A long, beaded dildo with a flared base was the first thing he grabbed. Mutsuki made fists around two handfuls of their drop cloth and filled the room with small, whimpery moans in rhythm with every few beads Suzuya worked into his ass. Suzuya fucked him with it in slow, short strokes, giving him more beads with each push into him until only the base peeked out. Then, he picked up a thicker, veined vibrator and eased it into his pussy. “Feel full enough, yet?” Suzuya asked, grinning and not listening for an answer as he rose to his feet. “Don’t drop them!” he singsonged and Mutsuki nodded. His third toy, a smooth dildo, he threaded into the harness on his hips. He then hit the switches on the other two and walked around to face Mutsuki’s front. 

“Open your mouth,” he said plainly and Mutsuki obeyed, quiet enough to be drowned out by the humming toys but tense, making the kind of face he made when he fought to maintain his form despite having sliced his hand open. His composure didn’t last. Suzuya held him by a handful of his hair and pushed his strap-on into Mutsuki’s mouth when the first whine escaped Mutsuki’s throat. Though muffled, his moans grew more open and audible as Suzuya got into a steady rhythm and really started to fuck his face. Tears welled in his knit eyes and fell down his reddened cheeks. 

After what felt like a while, something fell to the floor with a dull clatter. Suzuya pulled out and let Mutsuki go, to circle around and investigate. 

“Failure,” he said playfully, standing behind him with crossed arms. Between Mutsuki’s feet, the vibrator lay on the floor, its beaded counterpart still snug in Mutsuki’s ass. 

“I’m sorry,” Mutsuki peeped, frowning more at the floor than Suzuya.

“Eh, I guess I’m not that mad about it,” said Suzuya. It couldn’t be helped. If Mutsuki was ready to have them out, he was ready. “It’s more fun when you’re not distracted!” 

He took a knee and grabbed the base of the beaded dildo. Unceremoniously enough to make Mutsuki tense and moan through it, he pulled it out and tossed it aside. Then, he changed into a dry pair of gloves and picked up one of the strings connecting 10 needles across Mutsuki’s ass.

“One…” He put the slightest tension on the string and Mutsuki whimpered. “Two…” It wasn’t a violent shaking, but he could feel Mutsuki start to shiver. “Three!”

Suzuya pulled the string and the needles tore from Mutsuki’s skin, one after the other, in a single quick movement. Mutsuki writhed on all fours and shrieked so piercingly that Suzuya waited a second, to make sure a worried Hanbee wasn’t bounding across the house to check on him. “That one hurt,” he teased, smiling down at him and watching blood form heavy beads and fall down from the wounds like veins of garnet red in his brown skin. 

As Mutsuki slowly began to calm down, still a little teary and tremulous but only a little, Suzuya grabbed the string on the other side of Mutsuki’s ass. “Let me hear you, on the count of three,” he said, just to make Mutsuki anticipate it. He had nine more needle zippers to go, and no one else could hear him scream. Suzuya saw no reason not to bleed each one for all the torment he could.


	26. Harder than a Pill (Gagging, Stockings/Tights/Pantyhose, Swallowing)

“What are you making, there?” Mutsuki asked, nervously peering over Suzuya’s shoulder at the vile-smelling concoction he was mixing on the kitchen counter, getting to be the color of soy sauce as he mixed things into his bowl. Hanbee was visiting his father for the night, so Suzuya wanted to play a new game and test out a new toy. He could see why Mutsuki might be wary of what he was making. “I know you said to wait in the bedroom, but the smell is scaring me, a little bit.” Suzuya couldn’t help a sinister smile at that. Poor thing. So nervous, with just his nose to tell him what he might be in for while he waited and waited, alone with his nerves. And watching Suzuya set a bottle of eel sauce aside and throw a generous splash of durian flavoring into his mixture couldn’t be any consolation. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, screwing the cap back on the durian flavoring and picking up a jar of wasabi to scoop a little into the bowl. “If it’s really so hard to wait, though, I have an idea.” To keep Mutsuki occupied while he put finishing touches into what was once a bottle of lube, a few unappetizing mix-ins ago. “Why don’t you go and pick out something cute to wear? I’m not feeling too picky about what, but put on something you don’t wanna ruin!” For better or worse, Mutsuki had given him an idea. “Oh, and no black!” That would make it too easy for him.

“Um, okay!” Mutsuki looked one more time at the bowl before scampering off to do as he was told. Suzuya couldn’t help a small, chesty laugh as he dumped an entire bottle of red food dye into the bowl. With all the liquid he could drain from a jar of gari, the coffee left in the coffee maker from that morning, and enough berry lemon sour vodka to thin the now sticky mix back to a squirtable consistency, it was ready to play with. He filled a large syringe with the dark red liquid, attached the adapter to the end of a thick rubber tube poking out of his waistband, shoved said tube and syringe back into his pocket, and hurried to his and Mutsuki’s room. 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he teased, standing in the doorway, looking the fidgety, well-dressed Mutsuki sitting on the edge of their bed up and down. “I might actually feel a little bad for you, if you fuck this game up.” Mutsuki was his piece of art, when they played. Suzuya always picked his accessories, but tonight, Mutsuki pulled off something adorable on his own. That being said, Mutsuki’s commitment to finding ‘something he didn’t want to ruin’ could also be his downfall, depending on how good he was at the hard part of this game. 

His sage green sweater, real wool with fancy cabling on the front, made him look so small despite his being the taller one between them. The rib stitching at the bottom came down to the middle of his thighs and the sleeves covered all but the tips of his fingers. The baggy torso all but swallowed his athletic-thin figure. Not that Suzuya had ever felt undermined by a bigger victim than himself, but Mutsuki looked extra cute, dwarfed by his clothes. 

The oversized top hid anything Mutsuki wore as underwear, only showing a fuzzy strip of his legs that were left bare by the above-the-knee nylon stockings he wore on his feet. They were a similar muted green to his sweater, an uncommon color he must have spent forever looking for, not to mention a higher price point than that of more classic nude or black to buy them. Their hems looked well-reinforced, the nylon matte and soft, so they were by no means a shitty pair. 

“You really like it?” Mutsuki peeped, a meek smile on his face. Suzuya nodded.

“I like it so much,” he then said, practically hopping and skipping over to their bed. “That you’re gonna wear it for a while, before I take it off you.” No point to making him dress up if he was only going to be dressed up for two seconds. “Get on the floor.” He tapped a spot, just in front of himself, with his left foot. Mutsuki obeyed. “Kneel.” Mutsuki obeyed, and Suzuya unbuttoned the fly of his pyjama pants. 

He then pulled out his strap-on, threaded with a detailed technicolor dildo that he didn’t know what creature it was supposed to emulate, but that creature was not human. Mutsuki made a slight face when Suzuya tapped the head against his lower lip, but opened his mouth and took it. “Good boy.” Suzuya tousled his hair with one hand. The other crept into his own pocket, thumbing the plunger of his syringe and fighting the temptation to give it even the tiniest push. “Now, suck it,” he said. “Take as much as you can, on your own.”

Suzuya gave Mutsuki what felt like enough time to do his best. To call him shy would be a little harsh. He tried so hard, when Suzuya  _ told  _ him to take a lot of it, periodically looking up at him for approval as he choked himself on as much as he could possibly fit in his mouth, cringing at every fall of drool down his face but refusing to let it stop him from doing what Suzuya said. No, he wasn’t being shy. But Suzuya knew he could do better. He could be made to do better.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” still, was how Suzuya decided to say it. He didn’t force Mutsuki down on his harness like they both knew he could, but the hand on Mutsuki’s head took a firm hold of him and guided him at a quicker pace than he was creeping down the shaft by himself, pushing him a little closer and holding him down a little longer to where he whined and gagged in rhythm with each push, tears starting to form in his eyes. “There you go,” Suzuya taunted, rocking his hips just enough to help tickle Mutsuki’s throat. “Make it cum, and I might give you a reward!” At that point, he pushed ever so slightly down on the plunger in his pocket. 

He knew the exact second a drop hit Mutsuki’s tongue. Mutsuki could only do so much with the amount of his face he didn’t have propped open, but his eyes and cheeks grimaced the biggest grimace he had in him. Suzuya stopped him before he could pull away, but with the way he started to scramble back and the words he ended up choking on, Suzuya chose to assume he was going to try asking what the hell he was making him drink or complain about how it tasted. “It’s  _ so  _ close, Tooru,” was all Suzuya told him as Mutsuki retched and struggled against his grip. “Ready for it to fill you up with cum?” Or whatever he wanted to call the contents of the syringe Suzuya then took out of his pocket and held up for Mutsuki to see.

As he pulled his hips back, not feeling merciful enough to spill the better-than-cum he put so much effort into right down Mutsuki’s throat, he pressed all the way down on the plunger and shot the entire barrel into Mutsuki’s mouth. He found the kindness in his heart to catch the drip of red slime that fell when he pulled out, taking a knee in front of Mutsuki and clamping a hand over his lips, his other hand holding Mutsuki close and unable to shuffle back from him. 

“Don’t you dare spit it out!” said Suzuya. “Go on. You can do it,” he encouraged, more patronizing than praising. Mutsuki whined and struggled fruitlessly against Suzuya’s vise grip. His bug-eyed ‘holding back vomit’ look had turned to a teary, pleading gaze at Suzuya. His body heaved, trying to gag and spit up the load in his mouth despite having to know that, with the angle Suzuya held his head at, anything he rejected would end up all over his precious sweater and stockings. And it would stain. Bad. Forever. “You know you have to. So swallow it like a good little cumslut.”

Mutsuki looked about to cry as he breathed deep and shakily, squeezed his eyes shut, and forced himself to take a gulp. When he finally got it down and Suzuya let him go, he dropped to all fours and panted. His breath came heavy and he coughed as if he had been bawling hard. No words came out of his mouth, just half-formed, broken murmurs and traces of red getting all over his lips. 

“Good boy,” Suzuya came up closer to him and cooed, resting his clean hand on Mutsuki’s trembling back and rubbing up and down the fuzzy knit of his sweater. “I’ll go get a drop cloth, in case you get sick.” Vomit wasn’t an automatic out, let alone a little flavored lube. “Hope you didn’t think I was done with you.” Right beside him like he was, Suzuya couldn’t help but notice that Mutsuki hadn’t put on anything under his sweater but the stockings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could i have made this one shorter and gotten right to the good (i.e. gross) part?? yes. but i wanted u guys to know EXACTLY what goes into a batch of juuzou juice and what mutsuki would swallow for the safety of his good sweaters. though tbh he'd probably swallow it even if he was naked and on a drop cloth bc he's just such a good boy ;)
> 
> idk if i see mutsuki being /particularly/ into cumplay (though ngl every transmasc sub i've ever encountered has at least had a breeding kink) or not but i see suzuya, the guy who spent most of the original series making everything bloodier than it had to be w a smile on his face, liking a bit of wet and messy play and not being too discriminate abt it. like he's the type of guy who likes to make a mess, and why stop at blood? 
> 
> i might do the last free space day but i mostly jumped into this to play w the prompts so idk. i've got an idea in my head but rn i really wanna be done. also i already have some edits and rewrites in mind for some of these stories, and that's something i'll probably do as i feel like it, bc i really like some of them but definitely think they would be better if i put some more time into them.


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